


Melonpan Chronicle

by Celestos (Seruspica)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Family History, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mystery, Original Character(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 133,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10035509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seruspica/pseuds/Celestos
Summary: AU. Yanaka, Tokyo, 2005. What starts as an innocent friendship - and an argument of tea versus coffee - stirs up the secrets of the past. Things are not as they seem. The answers lie beyond lines and lines of intimate pages, in the faces of strangers, and in the depths of a history of fire. Main story of the Chronicleverse; eventual Anikishipping.





	1. Ch. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Some music. The curtains raise on the Chronicleverse.](http://seruspica.tumblr.com/post/153831750213/lyonesseofalbion-track-unmei-no-kotachi-the)

 

_[a story of infinitely repeating cycles told in multiple acts]_

 

* * *

**act i. the unexpected in yanaka _  
_** _(the very idea of history constantly being in motion, and at the same time, in a state of near repetition)_

* * *

_** chapter one. ** _

There were not many people left in Tokyo that believed in fate; and of those that did, only one came came in to Amaruya that day. Her hair was white, limp against the fading blue of the coat she had worn for all her past visits, and would wear until the day that she died.

Amongst the teas in the shop, her coat smelled of memories.

She had not spoken of fate. She had been silent; but Shou knew, as his gaze followed the woman out of the shop, that she did believe in it - she had spoken of fate when she had visited once, how long ago he could not remember. She had chuckled, and called it _fate_ when she came across an old blend, black tea with anise and cinnamon, and she had told Shou, humbly smiling, that her husband had hated it. The old man was gone now; she’d laughed.

Black tea; anise and cinnamon. Shou had learned it off by heart.

The woman had been one of a handful of customers that day, nothing out of the ordinary for a Saturday afternoon. A girl in her teens, wearing what had to be the previous day’s clothing, had asked for the cheapest matcha they had. Not long after, a confused-looking Western couple had entered. They had left with confused looks and haste, without as much as a word to the boy behind the counter.

Then, hours had passed; not a customer, nothing. There had only been the sounds of passers-by outside, a few singing birds, and a child without care or reason to stop running. 

Amaruya was quiet. Shou sighed, tapping his fingers.

With a quick glance to make sure his father was not behind him, he groaned and slumped on the counter. It had been a mistake to even bother working today. He had woken up tired and aching that morning. A few hours of delivery duties had not made things better, and neither had the familiar blue-coated woman with her usual order; anise and cinnamon. 

A clock ticked by. Tick-tocks echoed on from the corridor. Shou thought of walking back to check the time, but his body complained. Moving felt like far too much effort. There was no point in it, not until someone came in and asked him for something. Nothing had happened, not for a while; and here he was, tired and only growing more tired as the minutes ticked by, with only faint sounds of voices and steps from outside.

Inside was different. Inside was peaceful.

_Just enough to catch up on sleep,_ he thought. _I could sleep for a little bit._

The smells of anise and cinnamon; anise and cinnamon and nutmeg and spices; all of these things, peace and quiet and silence, and there was not a single chime of the welcoming bells. They were smells that he loved. That afternoon, they were not quite enough.

For once, amongst the familiar smells, Shou knew he couldn’t deny his boredom.

Outside, people were living their lives. He was supposed to be working; instead, he was idle with boredom. The ticks of the distant clock seemed aimless, going nowhere for hours. He had considered reorganising Amaruya’s countless shelves and drawers, but shook his head at the thought of effort.

Reorganising the entire place, top to bottom, would take half the day, if not all of it. Starting on something would mean finishing. If he stopped partway, his father would force him to end it. Doing nothing felt safer. He only had a few more hours before the place would be shut.

He sighed. At least, he had something to look forward to.

Five o’clock would be soon. He would shut the place up, throw off his uniform apron, tug the elastic out of his hair - it would hurt, but it would be worth it - flop on the bed, and stay undisturbed for hours. His father wouldn’t need to know the report for the day. Nothing had happened of note. He could escape.

He needed the escape. He needed any kind of calm after the boredom.

_Please don’t make me work like this tomorrow,_ he thought, as if his father was reading his mind. _There isn’t anything. I could be working on school work right now, or I could be outside. It’s a nice day. Please, just let me out, like the others._

Anything felt better than being here, bored and idle. He had asked his father once about taking a book or a notepad with him, but he had not asked again since.

Groaning, he let his hand wander. One finger reached to twirl at his bangs.

He thought of the elderly woman in her dusty blue coat. She would be back, in a fortnight’s time, as she usually came, with her long tangled hair and the usual penchant for anise and cinnamon.

_Maybe I’ll add ginger to it next time, if she wants it. Dad doesn’t need to know that I won’t charge her for that. I hope he won’t notice._

_I hope he won’t ask._

His father had called it ‘unprofessional’, but Shou couldn’t help but think otherwise. The scents of tea blends allured him in strange ways, stronger than the boredom most of the time. Each herb, each spice, each small thing - each one had its own smell, and its own purpose. Part of the job - the most important part, his father had said - was knowing each one. Each blend the shop sold was different, under its own name, and each had its own qualities; ones he had to remember.

When his mind would wander, the scents guided him back. For as long as he could remember, he had always had a good nose for scents.

_Like your father,_ his mother had said to him once with a smile. His father had looked on, his brows hard like stone. Ryou had never said anything.

His mother was barely there most days, and nobody was there now. He had been left to the tea shop alone. His father was most likely upstairs, at home. Shou was not certain. His father was quiet, and leaving his post was not an option.

Like a ghost, he dreaded the thought of his father emerging behind him. _Do your job. Stop thinking about it. Sort the tea out. Sort it again. Check the drawers. Not sorted enough. Get a move on, go on, go…_

Ceaselessly, the thought of finishing early continued to peck, like a little bird, at his mind.

He sighed, shoulders slumping. _Maybe I should ask if I can shut it a little bit earlier. Father won’t mind if it’s ten minutes, will he? He never minded with Ryou -_

It was then that the bells rang, jerking Shou out of his state. Springing up, he cursed under his breath. His heart raced for a moment as he recomposed himself from the sudden shock.

Quickly, he straightened his apron and gave a quaint bow in the direction of the door and the bell. “Welcome - “

“Ah, hey, it’s all right, you can sit back down." 

Shou froze for a second. Confused, he tried to get his breath back, at the same time looking up to take a look at the visitor.

_Tourist? Might be._

The visitor was a boy, around his age, with curious eyes that scanned frantically around the shop. First to one corner, then to the other; his head turned, mouth slightly open with awe. One hand tugged at the bag on his shoulder.

“Hey, can I put this down? It’s kinda heavy. Shopping.”

“Yes. Yes, you can.” By then, Shou was already back in work mode. _Come on. Get yourself togehter. Be polite, serve the customer; if he asks for something, explain it to him, don’t let him see that you’re on the verge of dropping dead like a fly._

His father had said that to him once. The phrase had stuck in his head.

The boy shrugged, and his bag hit the floor. Letting it topple over - to Shou’s relief, it was shut - he walked over to one side, eyes scanning up to read a label on the wall of drawers.

“Herbal blends… for, what’s that? In… _somnia?”_

There was something odd about his accent, Shou thought; what it was, he had no idea. _Tourist,_ he decided. _Not sure where from, but some kind of tourist. Which part?_

He was far from certain; the boy didn’t look Western like the couple from earlier, but his accent wasn’t familiar, not Chinese or Korean. Tourists had a knack for finding odd spots like Amaruya, Shou knew from experience.

This tourist was strange, he thought. Still, he was on duty. He had to serve him.

“…Yes. Chamomile tea tends to be a popular one, though you might want to add something else to it, if you like a bit of flavour.” Shou tried speaking slower, still uncertain. “A small amount of honey, if possible, not sugar - “

The boy interrupted. “Wait, hold on, you guys sell _tea_ here?”

Shou paused. Had he not read the sign? Could he not read Japanese, even if he was speaking it as well as a native?

He sighed, trying to focus again. “Yes. We specialise in tea blends, old and new, traditional and modern. We have green tea, or black as well, also some white…”

“Ah, right. I didn’t read the sign. I just saw the name written outside, it didn’t say what it was.”

“There’s a chalkboard outside.” Shou said, fighting the urge to keep on being polite. His fatigue from the morning was starting to ebb back. He wished he was alone again, alone enough to dream and do nothing; it was better than pointing out an obvious sign to a high schooler without the audacity to even read it before coming in.

“Oh, right, about that…” The boy smiled sheepishly, one hand reaching to rub at the back of his head. Fingers sank into a mess of brown hair. “Sorry, I think I knocked that thing over.”

Quietly, Shou gritted his teeth. Realising his situation, he quickly looked up again, hoping his customer had not seen his frustration.

“It’s all right,” he lied through a smile. “We’ll put it back up again.”

“That’s good! Glad I didn’t break it - well, I kinda hope I didn’t.”

Shou hoped that he had not broken it either. Having the chalkboard broken because of a dumb high schooler was not something he wanted to tell his father about. He straightened up and readjusted his glasses, hoping he could still net the shop a customer before shutting it down for the day. Hands quickly fumbled to dust off his apron, just in case.

“That’s fine. Were you looking for something? If you’re here for a visit, we do have some souvenir blends. Amaruya’s house teas are unique.”

The boy brought a finger to his chin, pausing to think. His gaze drifted around the shop and its drawers again. “Um, no.” He turned around, before jerking right back again. “…Wait, do you guys sell coffee?”

Shou shook his head. “No.” 

Amaruya had been a tea shop from the beginning, so said one framed certificate. He had had it drilled into him; to remember and recall whatever was sold, whatever could work for an ailment, or to suit a customer’s tastes, and he’d read those certificates and banners over and over again: _only the finest blends, unique ones and classics to suit all tastes, traditional and modern…_

“Ah, right. Dammit. Thought I could at least grab a drink.”

“We do make small samples, if you’d like to try it - “

“Nah, it’s OK. I don’t even like tea. Can’t stomach it.”

It was then that Shou had to fight harder than ever to stop himself losing his sanity. His time had been wasted. He could have found an excuse to drift off and catch up on sleep, or done some work, or at least spend time daydreaming if his father didn’t see him, being alone and doing near nothing - and here it all was. He was spending time dealing with someone who didn’t care, all for nothing.

First, he had come in and knocked down the board outside, having not read the sign. This, now, was an insult.

_Damn you, why did you even come here?_

“But hey, it’s nice to see what’s around. Looks like we’re not gonna have any competition, right?”

“…Sorry, what do you mean?”

“Ah, right! Forgot to introduce myself…” The boy chuckled, biting his lip sheepishly with his laugh. Whether he was playing dumb or not, Shou could not tell; either way, it was an aggravation. As the moments went by, the clock ticking on, he felt himself becoming more and more certain that he was staring into the face of an idiot.

Finally, the boy straightened up. “I’m Judai. My family’s moved to here from America, and we’re opening a coffee shop.”

Shou paused. There was silence for a few moments, with nothing but the faint, mundane sounds from outside between himself and the boy who had come in - _Judai,_ Shou reminded himself, _that’s his name, Judai. Judai just came here and he’s not from around here._

_American, but he doesn’t look it…_

It explained the strange accent, but nothing else. Shou had never heard of the name before. Even if it didn’t sound American, it was still unfamiliar.

_Japanese, then? Or American? He said something about a coffee shop, too; he’s not from around here… what’s going on? Who is he?_

Some part of him refused to process the new information. “A… coffee shop?” 

“Yeah!” Judai smiled, enthusiasm twinkling in both eyes. “We’re opening a coffee place, and we’re going to bake. Kinda like this one place we had in Los Angeles. Like, there was this place where they made the most amazing chocolate cake, but Mom said we’re gonna beat them. Mom’s insane when it comes to her baking, you know that?”

_No, I don’t know that. I just met you and already you’re telling me you’re here to mess with our family’s business._

“She just thought we might as well bring a little bit of Los Angeles here. It’s like… like you have no idea. Like, we might be more cake and less coffee, but seriously, you have to try our cake when we open the place…”

For a few seconds, Shou didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. His mind wandered, and he struggled to reel it back in. _A coffee shop. Here._

He felt his throat growing drier and drier with each syllable, until he knew he could say nothing back. The longer he stood there, idly so, with the strange tourist - _not tourist_ \- boy smiling at him, the stranger he felt, as if he was out of place. Even the smile staring back at him was beginning to unnerve him a little. 

_Here we have tea. There are enough coffee shops in Ueno nearby. Amaruya, no, Yanaka itself, is different. We are traditional; we get tourists and regulars, and the last thing we need is another Western cafe. We have enough chains. We don’t have enough tea._

_Dad isn’t going to like this._

He swallowed. The thought of dinner that evening filled him with fear.

“…There’s a Starbucks in Ueno,” he mumbled. “Probably more than one. Starbucks has coffee.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Judai shrugged, his expression unchanging. “We had a ton of Starbucks in LA. Doesn’t mean they’re better than us. Nobody bakes like my mom. And man, she is a boss when it comes to her coffee. She quit her job for it back in America, and that’s saying something. Pretty cool, right?”

“This is Tokyo. There’s competition everywhere.”

“So what? Competition’s everywhere," Judai winked, snapping his fingers. It caught Shou off guard and he jumped, startled. Judai only smirked in response. "And besides, we’ve got what nobody else has.”

"What do you have?”

Judai stopped for a second, shoulders slumping and gaze moving up in comical thought. “Um, I don’t know. My mom. That’s already something. Our cake’s amazing, I swear.”

“But everyone has cake now.”

“Not the kind we do. I don’t think anyone does things like her. I mean, it’s my mom.” Almost absent-mindedly, Judai turned around, leaving Shou behind and pacing to the other side of the shop, glancing around at what he had not yet seen. He stopped by the other wall, reaching out to open a drawer and pulling out a small pouch. 

_Green tea, gingko and what else -_ “Hey, put that - sorry, excuse me, do you need help?”

Judai turned around again, the small packet still in his hands. The label wasn’t quite visible. He turned it around, one finger tracing over the sticker branding the shop’s name. “Amaruya,” he read, “Gingko with rose and… _what’s that?”_

“Sencha,” Shou suddenly remembered. “Sencha tea with gingko and rose.”

“What’s that even for?”

_It says on the drawer._ “It works well for memory.”

“Ah, right.” Judai sighed, putting the bag back and shutting the draw a little too quickly for Shou not to wince. “Had no idea. Does that even help?”

“It’s traditional use. Most people just drink it because of the taste.”

“Hey, what about this one?” Before Shou could object, Judai had already picked out another packet. “What does chrysanthemum do?”

“That’s good for fevers and sore throats.”

“Eh. Good thing I don’t get those much. I’d never drink that.”

Shou felt one hand curl into a fist by his side. Slowly but surely, Judai was doing a good job of annoying him. He thought of saying something, but shook his head at the thought.

_Customer, customer, do what Dad said, offer him something at least, but don’t just get angry at him…_

“We do offer samples, if you’d like to taste.” He struggled to smile. It felt like a lie through his teeth.

Judai just gestured with one hand, and walked back towards him again, completely careless. “No. I really don’t do the tea thing. Shame you guys don’t have coffee, then I’d reconsider.”

“We… don’t have any, I’m afraid.”

There was an awkward silence. Shou didn’t know what to say next. Would forcing tea down his throat teach him some sense? He was still on edge from how careless he seemed, and how… strange, _yes, strange,_ he just seemed to be. He was stranger than any other tourist - or not - that he had seen or met. Never had someone just walked in and almost insulted Amaruya, not in the months that Shou had been working properly there. Not even when he had been nothing more than the second son of his father, he had never heard anyone act quite like him.

There was nothing to say, lest he let his thoughts loose and scare him away. He couldn’t, Shou knew. It wasn’t the right way. His father would scold him. His conscience agreed.

Softly, steadily as a pulse, the clocked ticked on in the corridor. He could see Judai beginning to fret.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I wasn’t meant to be here for that long. Mom’s probably waiting for me.” 

Footsteps thudded down on the floor, echoing as Judai almost ran over, crossing the floor in a couple of paces until he reached for his bag. Shou had forgotten about it, but it was still there, laying unceremoniously on the ground, contents on the verge of falling out.

“Right, well, it was nice to meet you - oh, hey, what’s your name? We’re literally going to be round the corner, and that makes us sort-of neighbours. Might as well know, right? We should be friends,” Judai chimed, gathering his bag.

To Shou’s relief, it had not been forgotten. He did not need other people’s belongings littering the place.

He didn’t want to tell him his name, not really. Judai had come in as a customer, and now wanted to ask him his name, like a friend.

‘Friend’ wasn’t the right term. 

Something about him, Shou pondered, was a little bit strange. He was odd, slightly foreign in more ways than one. He wasn’t _familiar._ He had insulted his family’s business. He had come to a tea shop and said nothing positive about tea.

_Coffee elitist._

“Marufuji Shou.”

He didn’t know how the words had slipped out, but they had.

The other boy looked back, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Yuki Judai, then. Look out for us! Or I might be round. You have to try the chocolate cake, all right?”

Whatever it meant, Shou was not yet sure. The spark in his - Judai’s, that’s his name - eyes was clear. His smile was confident, bright as sunshine, and as much as it hurt to admit, most likely just as naive, hoping for something that would most likely never take off the ground.

Something within Shou stirred for a second. Something, just for a moment, seemed a little lighter. 

As soon as Judai had turned around again, it was gone.

Wide-eyed, he could do nothing but stare. Judai waved, and as swiftly and suddenly as he had come in to the place, the bells chimed out loud, and he was out there, on the run, footsteps echoing through the pavement.

Gradually, the bells stopped ringing. Shou felt his senses came back. He became painfully aware of everyday noise from outside again as his conscience returned, the pressure of company fading out. In the back of the shop, the clock ticked on and on, ceaselessly beating a rhythm.

The meeting was finished. The flurry was over. For the first time in minutes - or however long it had been, he was not sure - he felt again the fatigue in his eyes.

He was alone again, sighing and tired out far more than he thought he would be. Behind him, the clock was ticking on, but he wasn’t interested in the time any more. 

Idle and confused still from the strange encounter, he stood and thought of the coffee shop he had heard of. Like a ghost, the smells of tea were washed out as he imagined the sweet, guiltily pleasant smell, and taste, of chocolate cake.

It felt wonderful to dream, he admitted - but what it meant was far from fortunate, far from happy.

_They’ll open their place soon. Dad won’t approve of this._

He was far from a believer of fate. He did not believe, and never would quite believe in the concept, but just for those moments, until his father came down and told him it was ten minutes past closing time, he spent them wondering if fate was indeed real, and if it was, how badly it had screwed both him and the family business over, just by bringing Yuki Judai and his family from Los Angeles to Yanaka.

If fate was a human, then it would have been laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thank you to two people: first of all, to the wonderful [Tsundernova](http://tsundernova.tumblr.com) for creating the beautiful cover image. (Go commission her!) The second goes to my friend Berri, for being my beta, giving me all kinds of tea trivia, and listening to me rant about this for ages while no-one else knew the details. Holy wow.
> 
> The year in the fic is 2005, which corresponds to what appears to be GX’s canon timeframe, even if it is disputed within fandom. It's also set in a real-life area of Tokyo, though I have taken some liberties with it and thrown in a few fictional places. I'm a proud coffee drinker (can't stomach tea) so the herbal uses might not be perfect. Don't use this fic as your traditional herbal bible.
> 
> Big warning: this story may get a bit upsetting later in terms of content. I did end up crying while writing on one occasion, thanks to fitting music and being an emotional wreck. I'd rather avoid spoilers, so I have only tagged one theme that shows up. Warnings will follow. Proceed with caution.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you find this story at least somewhat enjoyable, and please leave a comment. They make a writer’s world go round. Each one of them matters!
> 
> Celestos


	2. Ch. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for the chapter: [something I was listening to](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teko5HH0DC4); it kind of fits with parts of this story and kind of doesn't. Warning: implied themes of abuse.

_**chapter two.**_  

Shou found himself staring into his after-dinner tea far more than usual later that evening. He had not intended to, but getting lost in watching the liquid was somewhat relaxing, as was the smell that came with it. It brought with it comfort.

As much as the shop where it came from, something allured him about tea in itself. He had never been able to explain it. Even if he was tired, even if he was confused still and weary after the strange boy had visited him and forced his hopes to crash down, he had a warm cup to hold. He had a full stomach, and gently-warmed hands. He had some good things, and the familiar warmth of tea was all that he needed.

The liquid in the cup was a bright green; warm, settling but somehow lively, bitter-sweet matcha.

His mother had left the table. She had work to do, and needed time to herself. It was what she would say most nights, and Shou had grown used to it.

He did not doubt her work, all through the day and often into the evening, was tiring. It tired her enough that each night, a part of her would feel distant as she left his line of sight. Her eyes were half-closed, pale grey, a little broken, perhaps - as if she had no care or time to look back at her husband, and he had no feeling to look back at her as she left the room. Save for the creak of a chair, there was no break to the silence.

Leaving her to her own devices was best in the evenings; even his father knew it, judging from their distance in the hours before bed, and most of the rest of the time.

They were alone without her most evenings, and they were alone now.

Across the table, knees on the same cushion as always, with a stony look in his eyes, was his father. He held his cup in his hands, marked by a chip in one corner. Shou could not remember for how long the cup had been chipped, but his father did not seem to care about either fixing it up or replacing the thing. His was the cup with the chip, and the reddish-brown cut he sported on one side of his lip was constantly healing and worsening, never going away. 

The teapot stood on the table, still warm, steam streaming.

“How were the sales?” The older man asked Shou between sips of tea. His voice was hoarse; far deeper than his son’s. At seventeen years of age, it was odd that Shou’s voice had yet to break, and he hated it, more than anything else.

Shou did not want to speak. His eyes stayed fixed on the light as it danced in his cup. When he did speak up, it was reluctant, and came out sounding like the squeak of a mouse.

“Nothing much. Only a couple.”

“Hmph.” He heard his father let out a grunt, louder than he would ever voice any kind of approval.

It was rare to see the man smile. Every time he had been told to brew tea, Shou had hoped for at least a hint of a crease in his father’s features, and prayed that he could impress him. Years had gone on, but his attempts had all come to nothing. In the end, he had given up hope. Brewing tea in their house was a much-needed skill: nothing special, and far from a talent.

He had spent years amongst a thousand kinds of tea. He was used to their scents, and knew each one off by heart, but even that was not enough.

His father sat up. Steely eyes met Shou’s face, his gaze like a flint grazing against Shou’s softer features.

“You were having a conversation with someone. I heard. Was it someone from school?”

Shou shivered. His eyes widened for an instant, and he scrambled to reassure himself. He shook his head. “No,” he mumbled. 

“You could have been far more professional, then.”

His father sighed, taking a slow sip of his tea, the same bright light flickering amongst the ripples as he put it down. Shou drooped in a silent confession. His father was right. He had not paid attention. The more he had spoken to Judai, the more he had found himself slipping. It had been hard to hold on and act like the proper shopkeeper when it had been someone his own age.

_How old was he, even? I never asked…_

Still, he thought back, the fact was still there. He had messed up on his customer service. He had to focus harder next time.

A low ‘hmph’ from his father almost made him jump. He looked up. His father’s face was still there, still firm, as if expecting him to say something else. Guilt began to scratch at him from the inside. Shou knew he had to apologise, but something else was prying at him at the same time; the urge to tell the whole story to his father. 

He swallowed. It would not make him happy, but it was the truth.

“Well… you see,” Shou hesitated. His voice wobbled, as he struggled to find the words. “He… he came over to introduce himself. He isn’t from here. His family’s new.”

There was no use telling his father all of the information. His father wouldn’t care for America. He would sigh and groan about more and more foreigners, as he always did when he caught word of new hordes of tourists, the kind that would come down and swarm Amaruya with curious hands and ‘no respect for the business’, as he had called it one time. It would make no difference.

As much as he tried to deny it, Shou could not help but still wonder about it.

  _A_ _merica. The other side of the world. An ocean away. He’s seen so much of it, and I haven’t ever left Japan. Maybe I’ll never set foot outside of the country…_  

“…He was just looking around. He didn’t buy anything.”

His father grunted again. As much as Shou knew the habit unsettled him, he knew he could say nothing about it. He shivered, feeling smaller and smaller in the his shadow, far broader and taller.

“Typical.”

“No, I mean…” Shou mumbled, losing track of his words. His throat closed up for a second, before loosening up. His chest felt tight; why, he wasn’t sure. His father was still there, not budging. Deep down, Shou wished for solitude. His eyes sank down, searching for comfort in the depths of green tea in his cup. “I mean, he wasn’t going to. He… he said he doesn’t like it. He didn’t know that we sold tea.”

“Idiot. Should have read the sign. It’s outside. Don’t tell me he was blind, too.”

“I… I know, and he wasn’t, but…” Shou paused. “He wasn’t here to buy tea. He was trying to get to know us.”

“Explains it. Stupid new kid,” his father replied, looking back at the cup in his hands.

_Look at me,_ Shou thought. _Aren’t I good enough? Say something._

His mind struggled to think of what else to say. The last thing he wanted was to be a scapegoat. Already, he knew it, his father was far from impressed. He had not wanted to ruin his mood, even if telling him about Judai was certain to do it. Ruining his mood was what he had ended up doing.

“His family’s opening a coffee shop here. They’re from America.” 

As soon as he had blurted it out, he knew it was too late.

Shou winced at the sound of a sudden splutter. His father looked away, over his shoulder, one sleeve wiping at his mouth. For a moment, Shou reached out, trying to comfort him, but pulled away just as quickly. It was useless to interfere.

His father didn’t help. He rarely even listened to him.

“For hell’s sake…” 

“He said they’re going to be baking cake and selling coffee,” Shou tried to continue. His voice quivered. He knew it was hopeless; still, he had to say more. There was no reason to stop it. The last thing he wanted was to sour his father’s mood - though it had already been sour. It seemed to be sour most days. 

Some distant part of him hoped there was still something left to say to pull back the conversation. Deep down, he was sure of hope being lost.

“You know what this is, Shou?”

His tone had not changed.

_Just please don’t snap at me._ “W-what?”

“It’s _idiocy.”_

He sighed, pouring himself another cup of tea. Instinctively, Shou reached out for the teapot. Realising his father would leave it empty after his own drink, he retreated.

“It’s idiocy, Shou,” he continued. “Some people think they’re ambitious with all their wild plans and they come from afar to challenge their luck. They come here to Tokyo and try and make their mark somewhere, because they think they’re brave enough to try something that nobody else before them has tried.”

He stopped to take another sip of tea. Shou did not move an inch. His legs had anchored themselves to the floor. The hairs on his arms stood on end.

“And you know what? I’m not going to wish them good luck. Do you know why? Because people like that don’t get anywhere, even if they do try their best.”

Shou tried to object, but his father saw it before he had a chance to say anything. A palm out, gesturing at him, was enough to silence him before he had even started to speak.

He settled back down, seeing no other choice. His eyes stayed glued to the harsh face before him. There was nothing left but to be obedient and listen to him, he knew; past experience had taught him to stay. His mother was softer, cooler, more distant. She was lucky. His father was always there, always present as both his employer and keeper. More than blood, he was bound to him by business; and in his father’s hard eyes, what came first was business, hard work and tea.

Amaruya itself was made up of those things. It was common philosophy; what Shou had been taught from the very beginning.

“Amaruya has only survived because _it has a place here_. It _always_ has had its place. Since it was founded, it has had its place, and everywhere has its place. People who try so hard to be different and _special_ where they do not have a place get _nothing._ Nothing but _disappointment.”_

The word _‘special’_ had come out like a stinging curse on his tongue.

“America,” he continued, slamming his cup as if he had drained it of strong alcohol. Shou jerked. “Don’t they have something like _Icarus flying too close to the sun?”_

After a few quiet, still, uncertain seconds, Shou gave a nod.

He had heard of it. It was not strictly an American thing. Everyone knew. Nobody dared fly so high; he had been taught to fear falling.

Was Judai’s family opening a coffee shop really that daring?

Shou did not want to think about it.

“There you have it. I won’t wish them good luck. They don’t deserve it if they’re more stupid than daring.” His father stood up, leaving his now-empty cup behind. The chip was still there, prominent as a spot.

“Though if you want to wish it to them, I’m not going to stop you. But you know better than that.”

His father heaved himself off the cushion. The cup clattered down on the table, a little blood smeared on its tell-tale chip. He did not give it a second look as he sighed, turning around before Shou had a chance to think of objecting.

“And, Shou?”

He almost leapt at the mention of his name. “W-what is it?”

“Cut your damn hair. You’ll look like a _girl_ at this rate,” he spat, before leaving the room.

There was not so much as time to reply. Shou knew he had no strength to fight back.

There was simple silence left in the air. He was alone again, with only his own half-empty cup in his hands, and suddenly, he did not feel like finishing it. Looking down at it, he sighed. He picked up both of the cups, taking care to avoid the chip under his fingertip, and rinsed them out, wordlessly. The teapot followed. He did not want to take risks.

He left once the table was clear.

He turned back to his room, head heavy and eyes glued to the floor, chest heaving with the same tiredness from before, and a new weight. His eyelids wanted to shut. The rest of him was objecting, too empty to let him fall back into nothingness. Something was restless within. He longed for mere comfort.

His feet froze for a moment. The house was virtually silent. All he could hear was his father’s heavy steps on the stairs. _Most likely going to check the shop one last time,_ he thought. No matter how secure he had said the place was, his father would always object to something.

One look was enough. Under his father’s gaze, Shou was no more than a mouse.

He let his feet carry him through the corridors. He didn’t care if it made him weak. He needed to get away. He was seventeen: old enough, his father had said, to stand on his own two feet. He did not need to be told the truth, and he knew it already. It was obvious, even without his father saying anything more.

Shou knew he was weak.

_I’ll never be good enough. Not for you, anyway._

It had been the same thing over and over again for as long as he could remember. His father’s words had only grown harsher since Ryou had left.

He missed Ryou. His brother had been distant before, but now, the distance was further than ever, miles away and reaching out into nowhere. Ryou was gone.

His father had spat on the ground as soon as the train had pulled out of the station.

_My favourite son,_ he had called Ryou once, years and years ago, running one large hand through his brother’s smooth hair.

Shou had heard him back then, but he had said nothing. Years had passed. Those words had turned out a lie. He had no favourite son, no favourite wife - no favourite _anything_ , not even tea. His father tolerated, loving near nothing; wanting to know little else, save for a battered old cushion and a chipped teacup and the same grey look on his face, deep in his eyes.

_You’re not who you say you are. You don’t love me. You never did._

He reached one door in the corridor; not his, but next to it, and couldn’t help but stop and think for some reason. All there was was the faint voice behind it, and something else; some song he knew off by heart, no more than faint chimes through the walls. Hearing it now was less of a bother and more of a comfort.

He thought of asking for something, but changed his mind.

The music stopped. Footsteps sounded out, muffled a little, and then door opened. Light streamed out, bright in the otherwise dark corridor. Shou looked across. His mother stood in the doorway, peering out.

Her hair was loose, on the verge of falling out from the hold of her clip. Her eyes were tired; Shou could see it even in with not much light in the hallway. He could just make out details; there were small wrinkles around her eyes, and the single dark spot on her jawline was uncovered, a single brown splash amongst what was gold in the light.

“Shou?”

He said nothing. There was nothing to say. His throat ached. He did not want to think. He did not want to see her - not really, not when she could not say what he wanted to hear.

“Are you all right?” Her voice was distant. Even if she was close to him, only a few steps to the side and through a doorframe, his mother’s looks were not quite warm, and far out of reach.

Slowly, her arms reached forward to hold him.

He shook his head.

Shou could say nothing. His face was flushed, chest tight and eyes on the verge of letting tears spill. He hated it; hated so much how he felt, and how his body wanted to feel. He knew he was weak. Here he was, broken and quiet, with harsh words like chains binding all that he felt. He could not let her see.

He wanted to cry. Why, he did not know. He had not been hurt, not exactly. He should not have been hurt. It was something he knew. Why his throat was dry and why something inside that he didn’t have a word for was aching - he did not understand, and it made his head spin. Something like teardrops were beginning to prick at his eyes, and he ached on the inside, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and let his head fall into his mother’s firm shoulder.

_He was a stranger. I didn’t even like him. But, he was kind - or at least, he wasn’t ignoring me, and he didn’t pick on me, either._

Judai hadn’t been quite like anyone.

_Why didn’t I try and talk to someone, for once?_

Shou had to force back the urge to sob like a child. He was too old for this now, even if he couldn’t help it. His father had told him, over and over: _hide how you feel, feelings never did anyone any good._

_What use is crying if you can’t get back up on your own?_

“You love him, don’t you? You love him,” he mumbled, lips barely moving. His mother’s hands fell to her sides. He shook his head, his own hands balling into fists, out of her sight in the corridor’s dark. “You love him even through all of it.”

The question was dumb. His father would have slapped him for something so stupid.

His mother stayed still, head neither nodding nor shaking. “It’s hardI know. It’s hard, for all of us. He cares about this place. He… he cares about you.”

The way her voice shook as she said it made Shou think of lies; ones that she knew she was saying.

“He doesn’t care for _anyone,_ does he?” There was no use in waiting for an answer.

He had been told it over and over. It was no surprise that his father was concerned for the tea shop. Amaruya was his family’s livelihood, passed on through generations, from father to son and to grandson, generations over and over. Most of the past was long since destroyed, dead and gone, but Amaruya had stayed, changing hands, onwards and onwards for as long as he had needed to know.

_Our blood is as much tea leaves as this place is the product of hard work and blood._ His father had said something like that once, when Shou had been young. He had shivered at the thought of finding blood amongst the leaves. He had refused to drink tea for a long time. It had been a childish fear, but one he could never get out of his mind, looking back. His father had not lied - though Shou did not know the details. Assuming what he had been told was the truth was always enough.

Amaruya had belonged to the Marufuji for many years. Shou’s father owned it, and one day it would be Shou’s. 

Shou dreaded the future.

The scents of teas and herbs and spices were things that he loved. He could not love his father’s harsh hands and sharp eyes.

Worst of all was the fear that would tug at his heartstrings.

“Did… did Ryou call?” He said, his voice almost a whine.

He stepped towards the door to his room, looking up at his mother’s face, even when it was all that he wished to avoid. Her eyes were murky, a dusted green he could not make out in the darkness, far from the cold greys that seemed to stab right through him whenever his father would look in his direction.

“No.” She shook her head in silence.

“All right,” Shou replied, sighing. “Do you… think he’ll call us at all?”

“I don’t know. I hope he does.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Of course I do. I miss him, because he’s my son, and I would miss you if you left.”

Before Shou could back off, his mother was already by his side, pulling him into an awkward embrace. He stood still. What choice did he have? It was not what he had wanted; his mother could not help him, and neither could anyone else. If her hug was one of sincere love, then he valued it, even if it somehow felt cool and stony against him.

All that he wanted was to be alone. He was the only one who could understand himself.

He wrapped his arms around her again as he had done before, hearing work-weary sighs against him. Her fingers clung on, more than his, in a way he hadn’t thought she could cling and more than he thought she would, but he could not help it either. He couldn’t stop himself sniffling, leaning in even when his glasses pressing into his face began to hurt, just a little.

“I love you, and Ryou. All of you - all of you are important to me.”

He did not understand how anyone could love his father, if she really did. If she did not, he could not understand why she had not left.

Least of all, he did not understand how anyone could make room in their heart for himself.

Until his mother broke the embrace, he dared not move an inch. The thoughts filled his brain. They swarmed him, clinging as tight as the hands and fingers of family, and stuck tighter still.

_Who is important to me? My parents? My father? My mother - her more than him,_ he thought. _My mother, my brother - even when he says nothing to me, or to any of us, I care for my brother. I care for the people I meet and I see. I know these people. I want them to care, just like I want to care back for them._

_I just don’t know if she can understand me,_ he thought, stiff and awkward against his mother’s shoulders. He was in pain.

_But I care._

_I care for something as random and dumb as the stranger who happened to walk in today, just because he happened to be nice. I hated him. He was terrible, but he smiled at me. He wasn’t like everyone else. He was… different._

What was so different? The longer he spent thinking about it, the less he understood. It was strange, but he couldn’t deny that talking to him had been pleasant.

He had hoped to never see him again, but if what Judai had said had been true, he would come back again. There would be cake. He would be able to talk to him; perhaps, then, for once, he would have a friend of some kind, one who stayed.

_But why am I hoping like this?_

He let go of his mother, faking a yawn. She gave him one last small nod, and let him leave. He wished her good night. He needed the rest, and when he reached his room, he almost wanted to fall. For an instant, he had hope in his eyes - and then, the thoughts came.

He was alone, just like he had always been.

_Why am I hoping?_

The thought stirred, around and around.

_Why do I want to think of the best, when it’ll always come out like the worst? Just like Dad said, like Icarus flying too close to the sun._  

_I’m so dumb,_ Shou thought through the tears, silent and aching, tumbling down onto his bed and sinking his face into a pillow.

_I’m so dumb._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Shou and Ryou’s parents are never brought up in GX’s canon, I am using OCs. The family here has absolutely no connection to the Marufuji as I portrayed them in ‘Unitas/Concordia’, with the exception of some names being reused. That’s literally it.
> 
> Details like this are rarely the same from fic to fic as my headcanons vary across ‘verses - if you’ve read Unitas, nothing from it is relevant here, except for one little easter egg in the previous chapter. See if you can spot it.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated. They're super important, so please leave one on the way out!


	3. Ch. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Music for the chapter.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jktwXEQeo-Y)

_** chapter three. ** _

_No._

_No,_ Shou thought as he stared at the front of the classroom, hoping he was still half asleep and that he had misread the name on the chalkboard. He had to be misreading, or mishearing even, or that this wasn’t serious, and that the others were playing along; that the whole thing unfolding in front of him was some kind of cruel prank.

He did not believe in fate, but fate did not care for what people thought of it. It just did as it pleased, for worse or for better, and had he believed in it, he would have certainly thought it was laughing.

_No. This is crazy._

His class had a new student, and his name was Yuki Judai.

It had been said out loud. The kanji on the chalkboard behind him was as clear as the sight of him, no different from how he had been on Saturday, save for the uniform.

Shou rubbed his eyes again. It wasn’t enough to dissolve the illusion. He blew on his glasses, once and twice, and wiped them clean to make sure he was seeing the right thing.

The boy he had seen that weekend was still there.  His hair was a mess, just as it had been when he had walked in to Amaruya on Saturday, and his eyes were bright like the April sun, fresh and keen; unlike his own, which were begging to shut after sleeping terribly the previous night. It was the truth. The new boy in class was the very same boy he had seen, no matter how hard he could try to deny it.

He introduced himself exactly the same way, and told the class that he had come from America. Eyes widened; a girl whose name Shou had never remembered squeaked in the back of the classroom. The teacher gestured to an empty space towards the back of the classroom, and Judai took it, looking straight up ahead and avoiding the moody eyes of the tall boy beside him.

Shou stopped thinking about coincidence and fate around then. Judai was on the other side of the classroom. Talking to him was out of the question.

Being tired and restless meant he missed words as his homeroom teacher took attendance. He could feel the whole class staring and laughing as he snoozed past his own name being said, not just once, but three times. He heard the all of the sniggers and felt all of the the stares; they were far from pleasant, but different this time, and he could not hate them. People saw him and stared, even if they were laughing. They were noticing him. On another day, he might have sank down and wished he could hide, but not this time. The fatigue was too much. He was too dazed to think straight.

The hours ticked by, and the teacher went on. The embarrassment was forgotten. Shou tried his best to keep his head above water, but even that was a struggle. What began to consume him was not the fatigue, but pure curiosity - something about the boy he had seen, and who he was, and why he was here, of all the schools in the area.

_Talk to him, talk to him as soon as you can. You’ll have a break, and then you can see him. Whatever he’s doing here, you can get to the bottom of it._

It was those thoughts that kept his mind running until the bell rang.

By then, he was desperate; a little more awake, but closer to death on the inside from all the times he had been caught either daydreaming or staving off sleep. He cursed himself for having worried so much; he had spent his night tossing and turning and time-wasting, and had made the mistake of getting up in the middle of the night to look around when he thought he had heard strange noises sounding out through the walls of the house.

Even that morning’s tea had been different from the usual. He had made himself Western-style black tea with lemon, in the hope that it would keep him awake, but so far, it had not been doing its job. Still, it was better than nothing, he thought. Without it - without anything - he would have already fallen asleep.

He could barely see Judai among the crowd that swarmed him that lunchtime in the classroom. The noise was too much. He heard snippets and pieces of conversation, questions answered and unanswered, a little of everything. _Yeah, I lived in Los Angeles. Ten years. My mom was born in New York, my dad’s from Nagoya._

Some things were no different from Saturday. Other things he did not know - his blood type, that he used to play baseball, that he was an only child. Most of those things were not on his mind. What was bugging him was something that seemed obvious, but it was something he wanted answered regardless.

_Why are you here, of all places? Why did you only just come here? School started three weeks ago. Where were you then?_

He hoped that Judai would notice, but there was no chance. With the attention he was getting, it would be impossible. Shou was far from noticeable in a crowd, and he had chosen to stay outside it. Keeping his distance was safer than going into the crowd, but it did not help him. Girls and boys had perched themselves by Judai’s desk, or on it, all around it, wanting to hear more about his life in a strange foreign land, even if that strange foreign land was only America.

Shou was always alone; never part of the crowd, and he hated the crowd. Just the thought of asking if he could come near made him uncomfortable.

He had tried to speak before. Nobody had noticed. Sometimes, they had laughed at him.

The others probably weren’t to blame, Shou thought. He would have laughed at himself too. He was small, had bad eyes and could barely speak a tone above squeaking. Half the time he was convinced that he smelled of tea, even if it was something he could not help. He had been young when his classmates had called him out on it for the first time, and he feared the laughter and scowling faces coming back to haunt him at any moment he stepped out of line.

Talking to Judai, he decided, would not be possible - at least, until his classmates, and all of the noise, had settled. By then, Judai would have friends, and he would be alone again, just as he had been since the beginning of high school.

He had one more year, and then everything would be over.

He could barely wait for that day, when he would forget everything else and settle down at the tea shop, and never think of venturing out of it. His father would always look down at him, and he would be without company, but it would be for the best. He would have quiet, and people would speak to him - actually speak! - and ask about tea. He could talk about tea without much fear or restraint. It was his element. He was safe amongst all of the scents; he would be better with tea leaves than humans.

Even if it meant being alone forever, it would be better than being ignored, alone, desperate for someone to pay attention to him.

He gave up on waiting and left the room to wander the halls. Stopping off at the bathroom to splash some water into his face in the hope of keeping himself awake just a little bit longer, he sighed.

It was the same thing again. He had blown the one chance he had, because he could not even try.

As soon as the bells rang to signal the end of school, he left and didn’t look back. There was no use hunting for Judai. He had probably found friends already, most likely a club to go with the friends, and knowing someone like him - Shou thought, with a little envy in the pit of his stomach - an admirer or two.

_Time to give up on talking to him,_ he thought to himself. _You know that he came here for school. It’s probably circumstance. Nothing special about it. Stop trying to think that he’d ever want to be friends with you, of all the people in class._

It was with those thoughts in mind that he gathered his bag and left, as soon as he could. Around him was the constant bustle of students, as some slacked off and others made their way to their respective clubs, and that he set off for home, all alone. He was fighting the urge to scream with frustration by then - it had been too noisy, too tiring, too hard to focus on anything. Even thinking about the homework he had been set for the night was too much. All he wanted was to slip away, out of the crowd, and leave all he had been facing behind.

Going home, away from it all, was all that he needed. He needed time away from the crowd, away from the shame that had been his useless attempt to talk to Judai. The thought of the tea shop, of all its comforting smells, spurred him on, and he dared not turn around.

There was no use thinking about it. His chance had been blown, if it had ever been there in the first place.

The walk wasn’t far. He sighed with relief as soon as he was close enough to see the place, and as soon as he was inside, he found himself fighting the urge to throw his bag aside, just as Judai had done. He wanted to leave - to be alone, to have no-one and nothing, and maybe just die.

_No, stop thinking about that. Go and make yourself look decent. You don’t even have time for a break._

The small voice in his head was right. He could not; not with his father being there, tall and strict and the more frightening the longer Shou spent in his presence. The shop being empty when he had come in had only made him more nervous; all he could force himself to do was to run, quickly leave his bag in his bedroom and change out of uniform, then make his hair look presentable.

His hair, he thought, was probably the worst thing about himself; it was a mess, no matter what he did and how many hairclips he used and how much he had tried to pin the mess of it down. In the end, he had settled for something akin to a ponytail, even if it was barely long enough for it. It was better than nothing, he knew. His father did not object, even if he would scorn him each week for not simply cutting his hair.

_Forget what happened. Forget everything. Just get back to work,_ he thought to himself, over and over, like a mantra. Sooner or later, his stupid mind would get the message.

As soon as he came downstairs, the eye contact he made with his father was brief. It was enough, however; even a small glance was like a definite signal. His father left the shop without a word, leaving him alone at the counter, as had been the case for almost a year now.

It was not something Shou honestly minded. It was afternoon, on a Monday. Times looked to be quiet. Perhaps, they would get a few visitors, but most likely not for a while, only a little later.

Shou turned around, walking back to peer into the corridor, hoping to catch a glimpse of the clock. He had three hours at least. He would find something to amuse himself, all on his own, save for Amaruya’s countless quantities of tea.

The sudden chime of the entrance bell jerked him out of his daydream.

“Hey!” 

He turned around, recalling the voice.

Judai stood there behind him, panting a little. His mouth was agape as he took more and more breaths, and when he spoke, it was clear that he had been running. “Hey, are you OK?” He called out.

Shou wanted to tell him the truth; that he wasn’t, that he was alone and sick of it, as surprised as he was at the sight of him.

Before he could confess it, he decided it wasn’t worth it, and tried to push his bad mood away. “I’m fine.”

“Come on. You were staring at me for ages at lunch. What’s up?”

“I wasn’t staring.” Shou shook his head.

Judai raised an eyebrow in clear disbelief. “Well, you weren’t trying to talk to me either. Sorry about all of them, but really, what’s up?”

He leaned against the wall, shrugging his bag off as he had the first time he had come to Amaruya. Apart from his school uniform, the situation was almost the same. Amaruya was quiet. Shou didn’t know where his father had gone, but the place was his again. Even if he was listening from above, it didn’t matter. Judai would not be here for long, anyway.

He and Judai were alone, just as he had wanted it to be.

_Now what?_ He didn’t know. 

“I just wanted to know,” he said, trying to look away in the hope that Judai wouldn’t catch the dumb embarrassment on his face. “Why did you transfer here? Why did you come?”

Judai shrugged, the smile he had worn almost all day coming back to him. “It’s the closest place to me, or where we’ll be any day now. I didn’t want to end up somewhere random.”

“Yeah, but… why _now?_ Couldn’t you have come earlier?”

“We were trying to sort all the paperwork out. Transferring out from another country was hard. We only left Los Angeles a month back.”

“Really?” Shou’s eyes widened. “How come?”

“Dad’s job ended. His contract was only ten years, so we moved back. It only actually ended a month ago, but my mom left a little before that to try and set things up for us. She already found a place here, and we got it. Just that setting up shop and getting things done’s kinda hard. I mean, we’re not even living where we’re meant to be yet. We’re renting out a place in Nakano until the building gets done, and then we’ll be nearly round the corner from you.”

Nakano. _Bit of a journey,_ Shou thought. “How long until you move here, then?”

“Not long left. We’ve already started hauling our stuff over. Just got to get the coffee shop set up, then we’ll be pretty much finished. We’re living upstairs.”

_Just like we are, but we’ve been here longer. We’ve made our place here. You’re new, and Dad said you’re trying too hard. Are you, really?_

“Yeah, but… why here of all places? Why Yanaka? You’ve got Ueno right next to us.”

Judai shrugged, eyebrow raised comically. “I dunno. Ask my mom about that. But the place wasn’t too pricey, and it’s got good connections. Something like that.”

“Yeah,” Shou nodded. Still, other questions were pestering him. He had waited since Saturday night, hoping he would see him again, and it had only given him more time to think of all the things he wanted to know.

“So, you’re opening up a coffee shop here?”

“Yup! Seriously, we’re just round the corner. My mom’s been going crazy about it. Silver Lake on a plate, in Tokyo.”

_“Silver… Lake?”_

“Yeah. That’s sorta where we used to live in LA. Kinda hipster, but cool place in general.”

“Wow.”

Even if it was quiet, Shou couldn’t help but let a little awe out into the open. He had never met an American, or sort-of American before; not properly. The tourists that had come in to the shop were a minor exception - sure, some had tried out their awkward Japanese, but none had been fluent, not anyone he had seen during his shifts while his father was out. His own English would probably sound nothing like English at all if he was to try it.

Being hidden away, off the main street of Yanaka, meant things were quieter, and he liked the quiet that came with it.

“Do you speak English?” He asked, hoping Judai was not tired of answering questions yet. He had probably already answered it today, he thought, feeling a little ashamed all of a sudden.

Judai nodded. “Yeah. At least that’s one thing at school I can ace! Everything else, honestly, I’m crap at. I mean, did you see the calculus stuff Teach was on about in the morning? I don’t even know what that meant.”

“I could help you.”

“Really?” The light ihad come back into Judai’s eyes. “You can do math?”

“Well, I… I sort of try to. It’s probably not perfect, but I can understand most of it.”

“All right!” Judai grinned, and suddenly Shou couldn’t help but wonder what he had committed himself to. _Am I going to be his mentor all of a sudden?_

“…Wait, do you actually want me to help you?”

“Yeah. I don’t see why not.”

“Isn’t there anyone else? Like, I mean, there were all the others around you.”

“I didn’t ask anyone else to help me with math.”

“Why not?”

“Dunno. Wasn’t really on my mind.”

Shou sighed. He knew he was far from the best person in class. It seemed strange - _different_ \- to actually be asked for something, other than to borrow a pen or something like it. People didn’t turn to him much, and if ever they did, they would forget the favour as soon as the bell for lunch rang. He had lost a lot of pens in his first year of high school, and had sworn at the start of the year that he would stop trying.

It was then that he realised, thinking of lunch, just how early it was.

“Hey, aren’t you going to be in any clubs?”

Judai paused for a moment. “I dunno. Haven’t joined any yet.”

“School says you have to. I mean, at least one.”

“What’s yours, then?”

“Well, I… I don’t have one.” Shou turned, looking at the drawers that surrounded him. The tea shop was small, but it was home all the same. “This is my club. I work here. The school lets me put work first, so I’m not in a club. I… _can’t be_ in one. I just… go home early.”

He couldn’t complain much. Being in the comfort of a thousand tea blends was better than the thousand voices he had to put up with at school. Here, there were just strangers and regulars, and sometimes the tourists. His classmates weren’t the kind to worry about him. He had gotten used to being alone at school; working alone was by no means less pleasant. Some part of him even loved it, on days when he knew he was alone and unguarded.

_At least,_ he thought, _the customers actually notice me, even if most of them think I’m a child._

“Really? You can do that?” Judai tilted his head in confusion. “Back in LA, you didn’t have to join any clubs. Not if you didn’t want to.”

“That sounds a lot better,” Shou admitted.

“Were you, like… ever in clubs?”

“Kind of. I was with the broadcasting club for a while. Then things changed around at home, and I gave it up to come and work here.”

“What happened?”

Some part of Shou wanted to change the topic, but the spark in Judai’s eyes suggested otherwise. There would be no changing the subject, not while he was listening.

At the same time, it wasn’t something he was willing to talk in detail about.

“Doesn’t matter. Just family.”

“Oh. Well, that’s OK. We could be our own club.”

“What do you mean? Don’t you have to do something?”

His case was special. Not many had a part time job they were committed to in high school; those that did worked later than he did. His father had told him he needed the experience before he took over the place, and Shou dared not object. Even then, the broadcasting club was something he hadn’t been enjoying as much as he had hoped he would.

Judai was lucky, being new. He would have a while before he would have to commit to a club. Leaving early on the first day - one day, as the new kid, of all things - wasn’t going to be punishable.

“Well, if you can get permission, I’m sure I can. My dad’s going to be working at his job, and my mom will probably ask me to help her in the cafe.”

He had a point, especially if the cafe was going to be nearby. “But you’re going to be working every day, then. What’s the point? We won’t really be seeing each other.”

“Well, we’re going to hire other people. I won’t be working there all the time, so I’ll just sneak off. I’ll have days off,” Judai said, relaxing as he leaned back against the wall. “I mean, school doesn’t need to know that, right?”

Shou shook his head. “You’re not really going to be doing anything meaningful. With me, that is.”

“Who cares? We’re going to be practically _neighbours_ once we finish setting up. Might as well get to know each other!”

_You can try to get to know me,_ Shou thought, _but I don’t think you’ll want to. There’s nothing interesting about me, and all we have here is tea._ How would it all fit in? Judai wasn’t going to want to sit around, probably, and even if mentoring him was an option, where would he sit? There was no room behind the counter - he gave it a second look, just to check - and his father wouldn’t approve of a visitor, not Judai of all people.

He had brought the news of the coffee shop. That would be enough, Shou knew, to make his father hate him. His father lashed out at anyone and everyone during one of his moods. He had been the victim a fair few times; nothing serious, but what he had said to him still made him quiver down to his bones at even the sight of his father again.

“There’s nothing to do here. You said it yourself, you don’t like tea.”

“Whatever. I’ll come by after we both finish work, then.”

“Won’t you be busy with homework? Or cram school?

“We can do it together. You said you’d help me, right? And I don’t plan on going to cram school. Wait, are you going?”

“No.” Shou hesitated, thinking of someone before him who had. He didn’t need to, nor did he want to. Even if he did think about leaving his family for university, the tea shop pulled him right back. The place was his, just his sometimes; even that was enough. Without his father around, it was all that he needed, and it made him that little bit happier sometimes.

It almost made him ashamed, thinking that in spite of all that came with it, he didn’t mind the thought that he would one day take over it.

“That’s all right.” Judai’s smile was back, so fitting on him that it was almost demanding that Shou smile too with him. “Gives us more time to hang out.”

“Hang… _out?”_

Nobody had ever asked to spend time with him; not for a long time. His days with the broadcasting club had been short. Even there he had not made any friends. Middle school brought back memories just as dull and unwanted.

“Yeah. Like, on the weekend or something.”

Shou looked up for a moment. It was happening. Someone was here, wanting to spend time with him. Sure, Judai was new around, and he was probably the only person he knew, or had spoken to for more than a few minutes, but it was still something. Of all the people, he had somehow managed to speak to the new boy, even if he had already spoken to him by chance, a few days beforehand…

“I.. I have stuff to do on the weekend.”

“Work?”

“Yeah. I have work on Saturday.”

“When do you start? Early in the morning?”

“I… kind of. Before I work in the shop, I have to do something else. Kind of work too.”

Judai stopped leaning on the wall, taking a few steps closer instead to the counter. Before Shou could object, he leaned up against it instead, perching on the edge as if to sit on top of it.“Wait, _kind of?”_

“Yeah. Work things. I have a delivery thing I do every Saturday.”

_See,_ he thought. _I’m literally never free. That’s a good thing. You don’t want to be hanging around with me. I don’t do anything interesting. I smell of tea, too - you don’t even like tea. You could go and find someone better to be friends with. Not me. I’m not good enough._

“I can help with that.”

It wasn’t an answer he had expected. Some part of him cringed, realising what Judai was committing himself to. “Um, are you sure? It’s… sort of dull.”

“Well, we haven’t got our place set up, and I don’t think my parents will need me. Heck, they told me to go and make friends. I’ll just liven things up for you if it’s so dull. If you don’t mind the company, though.”

The smile was still there on his face, unfaltering. It was almost a part of him; the thought of Judai, not grinning like a child for more than a shaky minute, seemed stranger and stranger. As much as he feared that it wasn’t, the smile seemed real; Shou hoped that it was, feeling guilt set in already at the thought of dragging Judai out to something he wouldn’t like.

_You’ll laugh at me for it. I’m really not that interesting, you’ll see._

“All right.” He tried to smile back, but his smile came out awkward; too small, too shaky, but genuine, hoping at least. “You can come on Saturday.”

“Sweet!” Judai exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air as if he had made some great achievement. “Damn, now I can’t wait.”

“It’s nothing special, I promise,” Shou said, much calmer. “If it bores you, you can leave any time.” _He’ll want to,_ he thought.

“Yeah, you say that… but I’ll grin and bear it, if it’s really that bad. You know, I don’t think it is. And anyway, why are you saying all that? You think I’m that exciting?”

Shou almost jumped for a second. What wasn’t exciting about Judai? He had come out of nowhere, smiling like a fool and leaving his things wherever he wished. He was already something certainly different. _Maybe,_ he thought, _you are pretty exciting, if a bit loud._

“Well, you are… different. You’re from America.”

“Yeah, but I grew up in Tokyo. That’s not that different. Though, I kind of did lie a bit, now that I think about it.”

“How? You’re not from America?”

Judai laughed out loud, as if hiding some kind of joke to himself. 

“No, well… We’re not really from Silver Lake. We lived in Echo Park. That’s still in Los Angeles. Silver Lake was the place near us, and it just kind of sounded better.”

He laughed, out louder this time; Shou couldn’t help but smile back, this time with a little less hesitation. Something was really fun about being with Judai, even if the two of them had just met. It was good company, or felt something like it - he was not frightened, not like he had been at the start, and even if Judai was different, he was not bad. There was hope still, hope the two of them could be friends.

Silently, he hoped for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nagoya, where Judai’s father is from, is a city I visited a few years ago when I went to Japan on an exchange trip. Had to leave a little shout-out in some form. I have also been to New York, but not LA, so apologies for any inaccuracies. Quick Googling may or may not have saved my soul...
> 
> Regarding Yanaka being cheap: for its proximity to central Tokyo, it really is quite a cheap place for property. Thanks, internet.
> 
> Please leave a comment on the way out! Each one I get is really valued.


	4. Ch. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [More music.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CC2pdc6iYT0)

**_ chapter four. _ **

That Saturday came quicker than Shou had thought it would come. The rest of the week was a blur. Even the calculus Judai had asked for help with ended up squeezed into a lunch break, and he barely saw Judai after school.

With the coffee shop drawing closer to opening, it was no surprise he was being dragged away. Exchanging phone numbers had been quick, but the fear had persisted for days.

Shou had barely been able to shake off his worries. He was scared of it, he knew: of the same thing happening, again, like it had in the past, with everyone he had thought of calling a friend. He would end up alone. Judai would forget him by Saturday. He would have other friends by then, or be so busy with his family and the coffee shop and everything else so much more exciting that he would forget. Shou would be alone again. He would be forgotten, just like every other time.

Yet, the messages had continued. He had found his phone going off every night. Judai would ask him about math homework, then everything else. First it had been teachers, then the next night, what he had eaten for dinner, and Shou had replied each time.

He knew he had to keep Judai, and not just as a conversation partner. He could only hope that he would accept him. He did not pray, but he did wish, and wishing was his virtual limit. Whether it worked or not, he would have at least tried his best.

When Saturday finally came, Shou decided to follow the plan. It was not much different than the usual job this time. He had made up the box he needed to deliver the night before, after the tea shop had shut its doors, and after a quick breakfast, he left with it in his arms in the direction of the subway.

The walk to the station was pleasant, at least. It was unusually warm for April that day; not warm enough for short sleeves, but fine enough for it to be enjoyable. Occasional gusts of wind blew through his hair. He regretted not constraining it with elastic, but went on nonetheless, letting his bangs brush past his forehead. Holding the box meant he had no free hands.

It was as he waited at the station that his heart began to thrum. _What if he doesn’t show up, like we planned? What if he forgot? What if he’s at home right now, laughing at how I believed him, because he lied?_

The thoughts started to churn in his head, stirred up like the wind outside. He had to put the box down, fearing that he would drop it if his hands were going to shake any more. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe. There were people criss-crossing the station all around. Noise was everywhere. He suddenly wished he had stayed in bed that day and faked sick.

It hurt to think that he had been abandoned. Nobody was coming.

At the same time, it had been dumb to believe. That was the truth; he was born to be alone, and he had faced solitude for a long time. He had grown used to it. What was so different about Judai? Why would he care?

_No,_ he thought. _I’ve been stupid. I thought someone would care, just like I did._

“Shou!”

_I’m being so stupid._

“Hey, Shou! You waited, oh man…”

He was convinced it was only his mind playing tricks, but as soon as he opened his eyes, the truth came out in front of him.

Judai was there, breathing hard, running up towards him.

His hair was a mess, in a state no better than Shou’s, hardly brushed and messed about by the breeze. His clothes looked to be in no better state. “Hey! Oh, man, I’m so sorry, the subway was actually late, and I kinda overslept as well…”

He stopped talking to breathe. His panting was making it hard to understand him, and Shou barely made sense of what he said after that, until he finally composed himself.

“…and there was no signal, I thought I’d send a message but my phone messed up. So, yeah. Hope I didn’t hold you up too much.”

Shou glanced back at the wall, spotting a clock. Waiting for Judai had felt like hours. In reality - he sighed with relief, realising he was not running late - it had only been ten minutes at most. He had lost track of time.

_Dammit. I knew it. I should never have left the house. I can’t even keep track of anything in life._

“No. It’s… it’s all right,” he said, trying to hide the faint shakes in his voice.

Judai seemed to accept it. He took a few more moments to recompose himself in silence, save for the loud breathing. “At least I know my way through the subway,” he said, once he had finally quietened down. “…So, what’s with the box?”

Shou looked down, realising that he had put it aside. He picked it up and shifted it in his arms, enough to free up one hand and nudge one of the flaps out of the way. Judai peered in. Inside, both could see, were other small boxes; some bright and some paper-white, and a few small packets, sealed with stickers. One was missing a sticker, and Shou unfolded the top, gently pulling it open.

Inside was green with the odd splash of colour. “Just some teas I have to deliver.”

“Is it far?”

“From here, about twenty minutes. From where I live, no.”

He wasn’t going to complain about Judai’s choice of meeting place, not now. He was already a little tired from carrying the box up to the station; he had considered asking Judai to meet him outside Amaruya, but had said nothing in the end. Some part of him had felt sorry for Judai having to walk even further from the station after the subway. He had already had to travel up from Nakano.

“All right! You all right with carrying that?”

Shou nodded. He would manage; he had been managing his usual delivery job for quite some time. Gesturing with one loose hand, he walked on, waiting a second for Judai to follow.

They went on, out and into the streets past Nippori station. Saturday morning crowds were already starting to gather. Judai’s gaze flashed from place to place quickly. Shou could hear him pointing things out; new places he hadn’t yet made himself familiar with, some shops he had not explored, but would have to some time, even another cafe that he claimed would never come close to what his mother was trying to set up. Shou himself had to look around far more than he usually did - some things he had grown used to in the area over the years, but looking again, he could see small details he had ignored -new displays, new posters, even new plants in pots outside a quaint florist. The town was changing, and he had not noticed.

“Turn here?” Judai would ask when he drew further up ahead, leaving Shou a couple of paces behind. Being overtaken when he was supposed to be leading wasn’t something Shou liked in particular. He groaned a little whenever Judai rushed ahead, but did not say it out loud. It was too fickle, he thought; not worth mentioning, somewhat silly.

Eventually, he took the lead once again. Stopping Judai, then asking him to carry the box of tea instead had allowed him to; he knew he was smaller and weaker, and the box was somewhat of a hindrance. Judai showed no signs of struggle. With him keeping pace, he led on, making a few turns - first, off the main roads and into the quieter streets, past the park and the swaying of trees in the midst of Tokyo’s bustle.

The roads began to grow quieter. The further from the bigger shops and attractions they went, the more Shou could feel himself relaxing. The birds were less drowned out here. Children cried out from a nearby street. Amaruya was near, he thought; the tea shop had that same atmosphere, and that was what he had loved for years, even before the business was ever going to fall into his hands.

He could see it straight up ahead. As they drew closer and closer, Shou had to look back to see Judai’s impression of it. His eyes were wider than usual. He had probably not expected a place like this so close to the busy streets of bright Tokyo city.

The house before them was grand, Western-styled and pale-walled, and surrounded by greenery. There were no trees, but a white, ornate fence surrounded the green. Flowerbeds bloomed in all colours amongst the grass, and the lawn itself was half-pink with fallen spring blossom petals. The smell of it hit like a wave; Shou cursed himself in silence for not taking an allergy tablet that morning. He had forgotten the scent of pollen surrounding the house, not just in the flowerbeds but all around the grass and the grounds, as far as the fence and spilling out onto the pavement and road all around it.

“What’s this place?” Judai asked, after a few moments of silence.

“This,” Shou replied, “is the House of Flowers. _Blumenhaus._ ”

Judai paused to look it over again, not tearing his eyes away from the place. The more he thought about it, the more Shou himself noticed how almost out of place it all seemed. It was such a serene place, thick with flower petals, and yet the city’s bustling roads were not all that far. The house itself was an oddity, built and named in the Western style. The cherry blossoms screamed otherwise.

“Whoa.” Judai replied after a few more quiet moments. “ _Blumenhaus._ Is that German or something?”

Shou smiled. “Yeah. It’s called that _properly_ , but we just all call it the House of Flowers. Everyone calls it that, even the elders themselves.”

“Elders?”

“Oh, right… It’s a care home.”

Shou looked away, trying hard not to blush. It wasn’t an interesting place to most - probably not to Judai, at least - and he cringed, realising how awkward he seemed. It was a Saturday morning. Already, they had passed by young couples beginning their dates, fashionable girls waving to one another as they met, a small group of students talking about what had to be a game he had never heard of, all on the bigger streets of the city. _Of all the places,_ he thought, _I took you to see old people._

To his surprise, Judai didn’t scowl or step back. He didn’t seem affected at all. “I never knew there was a place like that here,” he said. “I mean, look at it. It’s… what’s the word?”

“Out of place?” Shou chimed in.

“Yeah. Sort of.” He glimpsed Judai playing with his hands, as if awkwardly trying to find better words for what he was trying to say. “I don’t know. I just… didn’t think they’d have somewhere this pretty around here.”

 _Pretty_. Shou thought that, too. The House’s surroundings were at their most vivid in spring, surrounded by cherry blossoms and bursts of colourful flowers. He couldn’t help but wonder what had come first - the name, or the flowers themselves. Either one seemed strange without the other.

“Can you hold on to this?” He asked, nudging Judai with the box. Judai took it.

The gate was shut. Shou walked over to one of the posts - tall, white, taller than him - and reached up for the intercom. Pressing a few familiar buttons, he waited.

A few seconds later, there was a faint crackling. A woman’s voice sounded out. “Hello?”

“It’s Shou. I’ve brought the deliveries.”

There was no response. Shou himself had grown used to doing the same job most weekends. She the same, he guessed. The House knew him as well as his own family did, if not better.

The gates creaked, before one smoothly slid to the side. Shou glanced over his shoulder, gesturing to Judai, and both of them went in.

They followed the path up, Shou sighing with relief that the box was no longer in his hands. The load was off him at last. He slowed down, letting Judai catch up. His neck had grown tired from looking over his shoulder to check on the box.

The figure of a woman pushed open the front door of the house. Shou made out her long, dark hair and the sweeping length of a white blouse.

“Hello! It’s good to see you again.” The woman said, her voice trailing off in the wind. Her hair blew around, threatening to tangle, and she pulled it forward, taking a hair elastic out of her trouser pocket. Once she had tamed it, she reached out for the box. “Oh, thank you…”

She turned to face Judai. “I haven’t seen you before.”

Judai grinned. “I’m Judai. I just thought I’d come along.”

“Pleasure to meet you. Saiou Mizuchi. Assistant… also temporary manager, depends on the day.”

“Ah, right!” Judai reached out his hand for a moment, before realising where he had left the box of tea. “Sorry. I forgot about that…”

“It’s all right,” Mizuchi said calmly. “Let’s get this inside, then. Shou, do you think you could introduce me a little better?”

She guided them in: first Shou, then Judai, stopping to give them a few seconds to take off their shoes. The corridor was narrow. Shou found himself looking back at Judai again, hoping that he was not bored. Judai’s gaze barely met his; the other boy’s eyes were everywhere as he took in the atmosphere, judged the wallpaper and the pictures of flowers hung on the walls. The place had its own atmosphere, unlike any other Shou knew - far from a hospital, but far quieter than the school, and not as thick with herbs as the air in Amaruya.

It relaxed him in ways the tea shop could not. It gave him company, more than anything else.

His heart thrummed at the sound of voices. He loved the House of Flowers; more than its serenity, he loved its people. He had been delivering tea for almost a year. The House was a second home.

Mizuchi stopped at the end of the corridor, opening a pair of wide doors. The room it revealed was larger, full of tables ordered in rows and neat chairs. The dining room was surprisingly large for the number of people that called the House of Flowers their home, Shou admitted, but the space was something none of the elders ever complained about. Even he found it somewhat pleasant when the smell of food and medicine wasn’t as strong, and the air was clear like that day.

One more set of doors was at the back of the dining room. Like great windows, light danced through the glass and trailed white on the floor. A pair of netted curtains blew about, having lost their security.

Mizuchi put the box down before catching one curtain and drawing it back, making sure it was fixed. She turned around again to face the two boys, one arm on the door.

“I’ll pass these onto the kitchen. You can go and talk to the residents, if you like. You have a while. It’s a good day outside, I’m sure they’d appreciate the company.”

Judai rushed in before Shou could thank Mizuchi himself. “Thanks!”

“No, thank _you_ for bringing the delivery,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Oh, Shou. Did you get the-“

“The chamomile?” Shou finished. “Yes. Let me just get it.”

He rummaged around, picking out packet by packet and quickly scanning the labels, until he found the one he needed. It was the one he had let Judai see. He pulled it out fully, giving it a shake and a quick sniff. The bag’s top being folded over wasn’t enough hold back the scent. One last look confirmed it; he had marked it with Mizuchi’s name in black pen.

“Here you go. It’s a little bit different this time. I added some raspberry. You said you like it a little bit sweeter.”

Mizuchi’s eyes lit up. “You think that’ll be better?”

Shou nodded. “I tried it. It tastes better, I think, but you can keep on adding honey. I’m not charging extra for raspberry.”

“Well, thank you. I’ll try it out later, all right? Do I brew it the same way?”

“Yes, three minutes.” He had tried it out himself, as he did with any new blends he came up with. It had been a little tart for his liking, but Mizuchi would enjoy it, he had thought all the way through. He could only hope that she would.

“That’s good,” she sighed. “Do you two want to go out now? Tome-san wanted to talk to you earlier, Shou.”

“Ah. I’ll see her first, then.” Shou replied. He looked over at Judai, one hand already resting on the cool of the door. “Do you want to come? I mean, it’s all right if you don’t. It might not be interesting for you.”

He hoped Mizuchi or the elders would not be offended. As much as he loved the House and all of its people, the more he thought about it, the stranger it was that a teenager wanted to spend hours at an old folks’ home.

_No surprise why nobody wants to be friends with me,_ he thought. _I’m such a weirdo._ Some part of him regretted bringing Judai along more than anything else.

“Sure. I mean, you want to. What’s the problem with that?”

As cheerful as Judai seemed, Shou couldn’t help but wonder how honest his smile really was. Nobody had ever thought that his interests were any good.

“All right, then. I’ll introduce you. Just get your shoes and bring them out here.”

Nodding, Judai turned back, his footsteps thrumming down the corridor. _Let’s have it now,_ Shou thought. _Let’s see me looking like a complete idiot. I’m seventeen and I talk to sixty-year-olds who aren’t even my grandparents. You’ll see me as I really am. I’m a loser. You deserve way better friends._

He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the moment to come, or to never come. Judai would probably use the opportunity to slip out and leave him. He would have other, more exciting things to do. Shou knew he had been alone for so long for a reason. It had to be so.

“Hey, are you sure you’re OK? You’re looking kinda weird.”

Judai’s voice jerked him out of his state, and he turned to face him. No, this was the real thing. Judai had come back, and his shoes were in one hand. Shou saw his own in the other.

“I got yours, too. Are those yours? Just checking.”

He was right. “Thank you.”

“All right then,” Judai said back, pushing open the door and perching on one of the steps so he could lace up his trainers. Shou did the same, but slower. His hands, as much as he tried to hold them steady, were shaking.

_What if the elders don’t like him? What if he doesn’t like them?_

He had no choice. The choice had already been made. He took a breath in, his gaze - glued to the floor - making sure to check twice that he had not left his own shoes untied. He did not need any more embarassment than what he was about to face, any moment now.

Any moment. A couple more seconds.

“Hello - Shou, is that you? Come on, come on!”

There it was. It was going to start any time now.

“Hello,” he greeted back, the presence of Judai behind him making him feel a little uneasy. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“I’m guessing you know them.” Judai said, leaning on the doorframe. “What? They seem nice…”

They were; Shou knew. They were his closest friends, but Judai didn’t need to know that. “All right. Come on, then.”

Taking a deep breath in and hoping for the best, Shou led Judai into the garden.

The elders were sat around in the centre of the garden, trees shading some of them from the sun, while others basked in the light on a nearby bench. A couple were in wheelchairs. One of the old men had both his hands resting on his walking stick, which lay on his lap. Beside him was a white haired woman, around the same age, working on what looked like a shawl with a bright blue crochet hook.

A plump lady in a pink blouse and blue apron stood by one of the wheelchair-bound elders. She waved, calling Shou’s name with a smile. Leaving Judai behind, Shou picked up pace and ran towards her, stopping himself just before his reflexes kicked in and told him to give her a hug, like he did on all other Saturdays.

_Judai’s here. He’s watching. He’s probably judging_.

Before he could say anything, the woman had pulled him into a crushing, warm hug.

”Oh, Shou, how have you been? We’ve missed you here, even Mizuchi’s been waiting… Oh, it feels like it’s been so long…”

Shou tried to respond, but his voice was muffled into the softness of her arms. His eyes squeezed shut, knowing he was about to have Judai laugh at him. If only he was alone here; then he would have been able to hug back…

He wanted to tell her, and all the others, how much he had missed them, too.

After what felt like a lifetime, she released Shou from her hold, chuckling under her breath. It was impossible to not smile back when he heard that familiar laugh. Just for a moment, he let the thought of Judai leave him completely. Yes, he was happy - he was happy here, and this was his place, amongst the flowers and trees and the kindest, most caring people he had known in a long time, the reason he knew that the tea shop inheritance was a blessing in disguise amongst all the difficulties.

It was too late to move. Already, he could hear Judai laughing behind him. It didn’t seem sinister.

“You looked so funny like that, sorry…” He blurted out between sniggers. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you ‘cause you’re weird, it’s just… your face…”

Shou’s face flushed a few degrees closer to fire.

“He is a cute one, isn’t he?” The woman smiled back, reaching out a plump hand. “You must be his friend. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Tome.”

“Yuki Judai. Good to meet you! And yeah, Shou’s my friend.”

_Friend?_ Shou’s heart stopped for a second. _Did you just…_

His whole body froze with disbelief as he processed it. Had someone actually called him a friend, someone his age, for the first time since elementary? It hadn’t sounded like a lie. He had never heard Judai lying before -not to his face, at least. The words had been lost, but he couldn’t help but pray for it all to be real.

“That’s a delight,” Tome replied. “Isn’t that right, Samejima-san?”

“Couldn’t be more true. It is a delight.” The rmaroon-sweatered man in the wheelchair closest to them added. “Samejima Noboru. Been here four years already, more than she has.”

“Now, now…” Tome laughed, shaking a large finger.

“Tome takes care of us. Wouldn’t know where I’d be without her.”

“With some other nurse, no doubt about it. With Ayukawa-san, maybe. We don’t leave anyone here on their own.”

“Except at night.”

“Except at night. But we have nurses on call, Samejima-san, don’t worry about that…”

The two of them continued, one after the other. Shou straightened up his glasses; Tome’s hug had dislodged them and left them lop-sided. It was no wonder Judai had laughed. With his hair messed up by the wind and his glasses on sideways, he was probably no more respectable than a circus clown.

He sighed, rejoicing with peace. Here, he was far from the orderly shopkeeper his father had demanded he be.

Judai - Judai wasn’t laughing at him because he was friends with these people. He had laughed at his looks, but that had been it. Shou admitted that he would have laughed too, at the sight of himself in the arms of Tome, laughing like the fool he knew he looked like.

“Are they always like this?” Judai asked.

“Pretty much always.”

Looking around, he couldn’t help but notice the other elders, and the space on one of the benches that tempted him to sit alongside them. Judai had already gotten himself into Tome and Samejima’s banter, and the three of them showed no sign of stopping. All three of them were laughing. The longer Shou spent looking around, the more he lost track of them. He still had time, he knew, and still had talk to the others.

He took the empty spot on the bench, and turned to face the man next to him; old man Kagemaru. He had not given him that name, or said it out loud to his face, but Tome’s mannerisms were somewhat contagious. Not a visit had gone by when the name hadn’t been called at some point behind Kagemaru’s back. He did not seem to mind it himself, or at least showed no signs that he was any more grumpy about it than he was about everything else.

As one of the oldest residents, he had won Shou’s honest respect with his age, and the strict looks he had seen him give were enough to warrant pure silence. Grey eyes looked back at him, cold as winter concrete; the man grunted, moving only his head as he sat in his wheelchair, one hand frozen in the midst of caressing a snowy white beard.

“H-hello, Kagemaru-san,” Shou asked, a little uneasy around the man’s stare. He had to stay confident, even if the eyes alone were enough to send shivers down his spine. “Have you been all right this week?”

Kagemaru was slow to respond. For a few moments, Shou couldn’t help but panic a little. It was as if he was dead, yet alive, his eyes open and breaths present, yet no amount of sun could conceal the mottled tones of his skin, dotted with the brown that came with his age.

“Hm,” he grunted slowly. His lips barely moved. It was hard to see them past the thick of his beard; Shou could only just make it out, even after a year. “It’s enough.”

“Ah,” he replied, scrambling around in his mind to try and piece together some small talk. “Are… are things going well at the House? Is everyone well?”

Kagemaru was told everything; the rule was unspoken. Even without being told, he seemed to know everything, and it puzzled even those familiar with the House. Whenever someone was ill, he would know just by smelling the air. When a new resident came, he would pick out the noise of unfamiliar footsteps long before they made themselves known. How his senses worked still, and so well, was a mystery, not just to Shou but to Tome and her fellow nurses, and to Mizuchi too, but they still called it a blessing. Kagemaru had many years up his sleeve. With those, some said, came the old man’s wisdom, as much as his frequent bad moods.

His penchant for persimmon tea was probably similar, Shou had reflected, recalling his preferences. They had been unchanged for as long as even his father remembered.

“Nothing’s changed.” The old man finally groaned, his voice little more than a mumble, muffled even more by the weariness in his lips and the thick of his beard. “Nothing does here. But you have.”

“Huh?”

“Him.” Kagemaru pointed to Judai with a small tilt of his head. “Who’s he to you? Is he helping?”

Looking towards him, Shou saw that Judai himself had gotten caught up with the elders, telling Samejima, Tome and a few others that had clustered around him, just like the high schoolers. His words were lost in distance and fuss, but it was enough for Shou to know he was telling them something about life in America.

“I… I don’t know,” Shou confessed, looking down. “I hope we might be friends.”

“And if he and you aren’t friends yet? Then why did you bring him?”

“He… he wanted to come.”

It was the truth, that and the fact that Shou had only wanted some time with him. School had been a strain on time already, and work had left him with barely enough time to do homework through the evenings. All they had shared was a couple of meetings, one before they knew they would be classmates, and a handful of text messages; nothing but a few words each time. “I… I guess he’s nice.”

Kagemaru stayed silent for a few moments. His chest heaved with a great sigh. His eyes were faint; distant, and Shou could not make sense of his emotions. Of all the residents, old man Kagemaru had mystified him the most. The man had never spoken much regarding his past. Even after a year, all that Shou knew about him was that he had once been a doctor, then turned to teaching. Years had passed, and he taken on the reins of a schoolmaster before he retired, of an academy that had once been near Asakusa, but was no longer there.

“In that case,” he muttered, “I see. The world’s a strange place indeed.” 

Shou had no choice but to nod. He didn’t want to ask Kagemaru much more. He already seemed tired, slumping in his wheelchair. Looking towards Judai, whatever conversation he was in seemed much more cheerful. Politely, he excused himself, and went to join in.

An hour passed, far too quickly. Shou only realised when he saw Mizuchi waving by the doors to the garden. Her reminders had kept him from being late home for the past year; there was only so much time his father was willing to cover, and meeting him in a bad mood was something Shou dreaded, far more than even messing up customer orders.

Gesturing and shouting to Judai, he followed Mizuchi away from the garden. The elders were due to go back inside for lunch soon, and Shou knew work was not to be missed. His heart tugged a little, knowing he would not see the people of the House for another week. The sight of them waving and smiling made him wish he could stay with them forever, even at the cost of the world.

Still, work and tea called. His father called - but a better thought was that the scents of the tea shop called; a reminder of what he knew he loved in spite of any of his troubles. 

The three of them walked up together, around the side of the garden, back to the front of the House. Judai’s head turned from side to side, again, as they walked, taking in the sight of the flowers.

“I hope some of our residents weren’t… too much for you,” Mizuchi said.

Judai still hadn’t lost his smile from before. “No, they were fun! I mean, who knew old people knew stuff other than knitting and grumbling?”

It was the truth; Shou knew from experience. He had been worried himself when his father had sent him to the House for the first time, more than a year ago now. Time had passed. The House was a part of him, just like the tea shop, and the people had almost turned into family. He loved them, even if they were not kin.

Shou loved his mother, too, and his brother. His father was a different matter that he did not want to think about.

It was as he and Judai were about to part ways with Mizuchi, outside the front of the house that he remembered old man Kagemaru, and how abruptly he had left him there, in the garden. It had not been polite, not at all, he thought, that he had neglected someone like him. It filled his chest with sudden guilt as he realised. He needed to say goodbye, at least.

_But that’s silly, I did say ‘excuse me’ - but then, I never came back…_

He had to be polite. Logic prevailed.

_Will they mind waiting?_

“I - I forgot something,” he blurted out. “I’ll be one second. Let me go back and grab it.”

“I’ll wait, sure!” Judai called back.

Mizuchi nodded, but Shou didn’t see her - he had already turned around to run back in through the front door, letting it slam behind him as he slipped off his shoes. Clenching his fists as he ran - he had not considered the noise - he hoped that he had not disturbed anyone. He pulled his phone out quickly to check. The elders were still supposed to be out.

_Not Kagemaru-san. He’s probably inside. I know he has medicine. He comes in early. I think he’s around._

He slowed down, looking around. He had time.

He would just say goodbye to the rest of them, if he had time, and maybe Tome would give him a pat on the back, as she often did. He had been lucky. Judai had not laughed at him when she finally had hugged him, unexpectedly.

It was strange, he thought. Judai hadn’t laughed in his face. Seventeen-year-olds didn’t usually have old people for friends, let alone as their _only_ friends. As much as he loved the elders of the House, they were not the girls and boys they had once been, and would never quite be the same kind of people.

Sometimes, Shou wondered if he had been born sixty years too late.

The lounge door, he saw, had been shut for some reason. Noticing it, he stopped completely. Had they all come back inside already? It was odd, he thought; for a warm spring day, leaving doors open when the elders were outside was the norm. The place needed fresh air.

_Probably an accident,_ he concluded, and decided to open it.

As soon as his hand reached out for the handle, it froze, and couldn’t move any further.

“…See, the boy’s finally got a friend his age, hasn’t he? You don’t need to worry,” Shou heard Tome’s voice purr. He tried to take a step forward, shaking his head. It wasn’t mature - not professional, his father had said - to listen, even if he was curious.

_She’s in there. I shouldn’t be listening._

His feet had him glued to the spot. The urge was too great to resist, just for a bit. He would wait for the conversation to end, then say goodbye to Tome and at least some of the elders.

He leaned in, hoping nobody would find him.

“Friend. _Ha.”_ Old man Kagemaru’s croak rang out, slightly muffled but just loud enough for Shou to hear with his ear pressed to the door. “Some _friend_ he’s got there. Call him a friend all you like, but those two aren’t going to be friends for long.”

“Kagemaru-san, there’s no need to - “

“No, I know it. I’ve seen it all before. It’s happened. History’s repeating itself. It’s the same old story come back.”

Shou froze. A shiver ran through him; first once, then again.

_History’s repeating itself? What does that mean? How?_

“I’m telling you, it’s just like the past.”

Kagemaru mumbled - or at least, a mumble was all that Shou could make out from behind the door. It was hard to make out much, and the urge to get back and get out and leave was still burning at the back of his mind. He ignored it.

“Shh, it’s all right. Please, calm down. It’s almost time for your medicine…”

A grumble followed, then footsteps. Shou’s heart leapt, and he drew back immediately. Shaking his head, he turned around and ran.

Kagemaru’s words rang out loud in his head, both seeping and striking, at once. He didn’t understand it, and some part of him knew he didn’t need to, but it did nothing against the throng of alarm bells he could hear blaring inside.

_It’s just like the past. History’s repeating itself. Repeating itself. Repeating itself…_

It was damnation. He couldn’t stop himself shivering.

He stopped only in front of the door that led to the front of the House. His breaths were a mess. He had to compose himself. Judai was outside, and most likely Mizuchi, he realised. They would ask him what was wrong. He couldn’t say anything. He feared it; feared that he had found out something terrible that he should never have known.

_It’s just like the past._

It took a minute’s worth of breathing before he had somewhat stabilised. With a quick look around, just to check that Tome or Kagemaru - or anyone else - had not seen him - he turned the door handle and opened the door.

The sunlight outside was a strike.

There, in front, just as he had left them, were Judai and Mizuchi. Having heard the creak of the door, they turned around.

 _Do they know? Do they realise?_ Shou gulped. He hoped that they would not complain. He had taken too long. Judai was probably going to be unhappy; he had kept him waiting, and for no good reason, either -

“Hey, there you are! Man, I was wondering how long you’d be!”

Judai’s smile was there, just as it had been before. Shou wasn’t sure how long he had been out for, but hoped it was genuine. His heartbeat was becoming unsteady again. He didn’t want to leave Judai disappointed, and he had, in a way. Still, he had been lucky. From the looks of him and Mizuchi, it had not been long.

“Shou? Are you all right?” Mizuchi asked, the concern clear in her eyes.

He couldn’t tell her what he had heard. He was overreacting, anyway; he was sure of it, even if the words were still looping, over and over. “Yeah,” he managed to mumble. “I’m fine.”

“Sure? You don’t sound like it,” Judai stepped in.

Shou shook his head in denial. “N-no. Honestly. I’m fine. I was just running.”

It wasn’t far from the truth. Shou knew he was a bad liar, and had always been. He could only hope it was enough. He didn’t want to explain - not now, he was already drowning in embarrassment. It had only been an old man complaining. It was an exaggeration, a dumb rant of some sort, some kind of senility. Kagemaru was one of the oldest of the House elders. He was almost ninety years old. He was most likely deluded, even if it was something Shou had never considered.

“…Are you OK? I’m sorry I took so long,” he finally added.

Judai shook his head; Shou breathed out in relief. “Nah, I’m all right. You want to get going? You said you were in a hurry…”

_I’m not, not anymore. I want to go back. I want to tell you what I heard. But…_

_No, too strange,_ he decided. It wasn’t going to be worth the effort of telling. He had probably thought too hard about it. Dwelling on it - or worse, getting Judai, or anyone else, involved in his dumb idea - would not help anybody.

_Those two aren’t going to be friends for long. Repeating itself. It’s just like the past…_

Was that what Kagemaru had been talking about? Was that it? Was he going to be alone again? Was he going to lose Judai? Even still, he wasn’t sure if he could really call him a friend, like Judai had. He was still his family’s rival, maybe more of an acquaintance to him. He was the closest thing he had had to a friend for years, save for the elders at the House of Flowers; losing him would be going back to the old ways, but the thought of it hurt nonetheless…

_Stop it, he thought. Stop thinking about it. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t have to mean anything, not if you don’t want it to._

“Yeah. I’m fine. Let’s get going.”

They waved goodbye to Mizuchi, leaving the gates to creak shut behind them. As they went on, Shou let Judai talk, hoping it would drown out the voice, repeating over and over. Judai had not minded the old folks. He had even spoken gladly to some of them, and they had taken a liking to him, too.

When Shou turned to ask him again if he did not mind spending time with him, Judai only shrugged his shoulders.

“Nope,” he had said, just like before. “I actually kind of liked it.”

Shou tried to nod along too. He tried to look happy, and he was relieved that Judai had not walked off. Still, over and over, he heard Kagemaru’s warning play over and over with each step he took, each step closer to home.

No matter how positive Judai was, he could not tell him.

It was dumb, he kept thinking - so dumb, and so trivial, but as the thoughts played over again and again, he could not help but think of the old man and his croaking, and of history repeating itself, over, and over, and over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something strange is going on. That, and this is almost 7k in length!
> 
> Nippori Station is the closest major station to Yanaka, as far as I’m aware. The House of Flowers is not a real place, however, so don't go looking for it.
> 
> The major residents and workers of the House are all characters from canon. In particular, Mizuchi is a really interesting character. She only appears in canon a handful of times, so there’s not much shown of her personality, other than ties to her brother (who also exists in this AU), and that means I get to play around. I’ve had some fun with her, so more on her to come. She and her brother are a little older in this AU, by the way.
> 
> That’s about all I’m gonna bring up at the moment, and there is more to come! Hope you enjoyed, and please leave a comment!


	5. Ch. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music: I don't ship the ship for this duet, but hey, [the song fits and it's such a jam.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXAchYWdfJ0)

_** chapter five. ** _ 

The messages became far more intense after that Saturday. As soon as they had parted ways at the station, Shou picked up pace and ran home, knowing he would be late for work - and the first message was already there by the time he picked up his pace. 

Judai began to message him more often, more quickly. At first, it was just a ‘thanks’ for the day, and for showing him the House of Flowers. Shou had replied, and gotten a reply back in minutes. From then on, the conversations spiralled. He had had to answer in private when his his father came downstairs to check on business, and faked needing the bathroom to tell Judai that texting while he was at work was not acceptable.

Still, it was not something he minded. He had enjoyed the company on Saturday, and having it last somehow was good, even if it was only on the screen of a phone. He had found someone to speak to; somebody his age, whom he could see almost daily, unlike his weekly visits to the House of Flowers for deliveries.

The old folks at the House had not intimidated Judai. He had seen him deep in conversation with some of the elders and nurses, telling them all about his time in America, and listening back to them. Shou had not expected it - at least, not the listening - but it had reassured him like nothing else. On the way home from the House, Judai had asked if he could come and visit again.

If Mizuchi and the nurses did not mind, he would ask him again. The elders did seem to like him too, to Shou’s relief. Things had gone far better than he had expected.

Judai’s messages kept Shou going for days, even when they could barely speak outside of class. They had been seated apart - perhaps that had been for the better, Shou thought, knowing that Judai would probably never leave him in peace to do his work. At least an hour’s worth of explaining homework to him had ensued over the weekend.

The days passed; Judai and he began to walk home together after school. At first, it had been Judai running after him, sheepish as ever, then asking properly. The second time, Judai had tugged on his sleeve. By the third day, Shou began to wait for him.

It was on the fourth day that the pattern broke - almost. The bell rang for lunch, and their teacher, tired out and weary without coffee, almost fled from the classroom. The front desk was freed. It was then that Judai ran to occupy it, and made a loud, unexpected announcement to the whole class.

“Hey, anyone want to sample the best cake in Tokyo?”

The coffee shop was due to open that weekend, Shou realised.

The reaction was immediate. There was a stampeding rush of feet and a few laziee turns of heads. Shou was pushed out of the way by a large girl wanting to know every detail. He tried to stand up and push in to the crowd, but the growing huddle around the front desk pushed right back, painfully.

He sighed. Suddenly, it had become the same story all over again. As soon as Judai had won the attention of the whole class, there was no tearing them away.

He had begun to forget all about Judai’s family and their plans for a coffee shop. For days, he had been back at Amaruya, hard at work amongst tea leaves and herbs and dried fruits and petals, and his mind had been taken right off the affair. He had been in his small piece of heaven, happily so - and simply being _reminded_ of the coffee business threatened to tear him right out of it.

He shivered, remembering his father’s quiet anger, poison pooling as he spat out his words. _Don’t they have something like Icarus flying too close to the sun?_

Judai was in his element, controlling the crowd - he could hear it. Having swung his bag down atop the front desk, he had dug in, fishing out of it what looked like flyers. Shrugging his shoulders, as if to say ‘take however many you want’, he threw a small stack out in front of him. 

The frenzy began. Hands grabbed, wanting to see first and foremost. Boys and girls clamoured. There were squeals of elation at what had to be either an offer or, from what Shou managed to glimpse, a well-advertised photograph of Judai’s mother’s infamous cake.

The noise grew so loud that Shou felt his head beginning to ache. Sighing, he forced himself out of the room.

_Why did I bother?_

He groaned. Judai would probably forget about him now. The coffee shop opening would leave him alone all over again. He had mentioned working there once it opened, just like Shou did at Amaruya. There would be no time to speak to him. Even with the few hours off that he had, all he could do was finish his homework, talk to Judai in messages and drop on the bed, so tired out he could not get out of his clothing.

Judai would not be his friend at this rate, not for much longer.

_Those two won’t be friends -_

His heartbeat sped up at the thought of old man Kagemaru. His voice, the old croak, sounded out like the boom of the noise in the classroom, repeating over and over again in his head. _It’s just like the past,_ it said. _It’s just like the past._

_It’s just like me, like I’ve always been,_ he thought.

He had been alone for too long. Sooner or later, he would resign himself to a life behind Amaruya’s tea-scented counter. _Perhaps it would be less painful,_ he thought, _if I did break away from him. He won’t be seeing much of me in a while._

_…But I want to see him_ , he knew. There was no use denying it. Judai had not minded him spending time with the elders of the House, and had talked with them himself. He had not laughed, nor had he tried to look for excuses to run. He had spoken to Shou for more than just help with mathematical equations. He had not known him long, but already, he was so different from what Shou was familiar with. Things had already changed.

_Maybe it’s just temporary,_ he thought. _I can only hope. I just wanted a friend._

He slung his bag over his shoulder and began to walk away. He did not have much time to finish work. He would be needed at the tea shop that afternoon. What he needed was a quieter place, and the classroom was far from it. Sighing, he made his way to the library.

The rest of the day was much quieter. By the time he came back to the classroom, almost late after being distracted from his work for a little too long, the leaflets had gone from the floor. Talk of the coffee shop had settled down, and Judai was back to slumping lazily, half-asleep, at his desk. 

The rest of school flowed by quickly. Classes were almost the same as they had been in the morning. There were no glossy papers rustling in bags, nor were there whispers of gossip or wonder. Not once did he catch wind of Judai’s name, save for the English class that Judai slept through, and in math, when he was forced to wake up, only to fall asleep later again. Shou spent a little too long staring at him, wondering when he would wake up. All that made him give up was the teacher picking on him to solve an equation he knew nothing about.

By the time classes were over, Shou had forgotten about Judai completely. Work was on his mind again as he made his way out of the classroom. He had his usual shift; not long, only a couple of hours each weekday in the bright spring and summer. His father would leave him to his business, and interrogate him later that evening.

He had grown accustomed to the pattern. When he had begun to take shifts the previous spring, his father had watched him from the corridor. Shou had dreaded it. His father’s eyes meeting his whenever he turned back to just check the time made him shiver each time. The same cold looks would greet him each time, each day, until his father trusted him enough to leave him while he either went out or rested upstairs.

At least, this time, he would have freedom. The tea shop being his was a pleasant thought. One day, it would be true not just for a few hours, but for a long time. One day, the shop would be his until the end of his life.

“Hey, Shou! Wait up!”

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his name being called, and he stopped. Before he could turn around, Judai was already beside him, panting a little.

“Oh man… hey, thanks for waiting,” he said, one hand buried in the mess of his hair. “I thought you’d gone already. Sorry about lunch, by the way.”

“It’s all right,” Shou mumbled. He had felt terrible, but did not want to take it out on Judai. It had probably not been Judai’s fault.

“Mom told me to give out the leaflets. They’ve got to know who we are, right?”

Shou nodded, half truly, half not. He wanted Judai to do as he was meant to, but his father’s words, and his hatred, were still firmly embedded.

“Oh, yeah, we’ve almost got the place finished. We’re opening this weekend. That’s what the leaflts were for. Got to advertise, right? All we’ve got left to do is get the goods in. Tomorrow we’ll be preparing…”

Shou nodded along.

“…but hey, Mom won’t mind if you come see the place a little early,” he added. “Wait, you’ve got work, right?”

“Yeah. Until five, and then I’ve got to tidy.”

“Sounds fine! I think Mom’s doing some prep with the people she’s hired anyway. I think we’ll still be around by half five, so you can come see. Don’t think she’s made any cake, though.”

“Are you sure?” Shou didn’t want trouble for either of them.

“Yeah, I’m sure!” Judai exclaimed. “Mom kept on saying that she wants me to have friends. I mean, you’re cool, I don’t think she’ll have anything to say. If she does, I’ll just tell her she told me to bring friends round. She can’t argue…”

It felt a little strange, Shou had to admit, that he was just being invited over like this. He had rarely ever been invited anywhere by anybody his age. Even at elementary school, his family did not have the close ties that other parents seemed to have with each other. He would hear of his classmates playing together on weekends, and parents hosting parties for their children, but even his birthdays were quiet occasions. He did not have many close friends, and those that had been close enough to warrant spending time with had all gone in different directions.

Judai had been the first in a long, long time. It felt only right to be polite and accept, and Shou couldn’t bear to turn down something that might warrant him a friendship.

“All right,” he agreed. “Is it all right if we meet after work? I don’t think Dad’s going to let me leave early.”

“Sure,” Judai said. “No big deal. I’ll come meet you at what, five? Six?”

They agreed on half past five, later that day. By then, Shou knew he would be able to break out of his father’s control, or at least make up some excuse. Whether he would approve of him seeing Judai, even if it was just to ‘sample the competition’, the excuse Judai and he had come up with, he did not know. Judai had told him it was worth trying.

Some part of him wanted to.

He tried to relax through his shift. His father allowed him to brew tea for himself on some days - good business, he had said, _giving the customers your own seal of approval_. Shou did not do it for promoting the business, but because he was in need of it. School left him tired most days.

_How did Ryou cope with this?_

Some days, when there were few customers, he would find himself asking what would have become of his brother.

There were a couple of customers in that day. Amaruya did not usually gain much attention during his weekday shifts, but the odd few tourists did help to alleviate boredom. A few of them, Chinese from the sound of their accents, came in, with a few packets being sold. In the five minutes just before closing, a girl Shou recognised from school rushed in to ask about ceremonial matcha, and left with enough to supply the traditional arts club for a few weeks, at least.

The thought of Judai, and his family’s business, never left Shou’s mind. As soon as the clock in the corridor signalled closing time, he rushed into cleaning.

Judai showed up before he was done putting the ill-fated board back. The moment he offered to help, Shou had almost pulled it out of his hands. Judai’s reputation with the sign outside was not a good one. Since their first meeting, it had been knocked over at least twice when Judai had come to visit, both times by sheer accident - or so he had claimed.

By sheer luck, the thing was not damaged.

As soon as the shop was tidied and he was out of uniform, his hair free of any loose clips and elastics, the two of them left.

Shou had not asked him before where the shop was. It had never occurred to him. Ueno was nearby, and it was a fuller, more bustling place. It boomed with both tourists and locals, concrete city roots and the green of the park at its heart. He had walked through its streets many times, but not often enough to know every single nook and cranny. Some of the elders of the House moaned that the city was constantly changing, and Shou had to agree. He did not hate it, but something about it was mystifying. Tokyo grew and evolved. It would never be possible to know the entire city by heart.

Yanaka was quieter, strange, more unusual. Sometimes, Shou swore there were more cats than people there. The streets of Yanaka still held an air of the past; one that he loved.

“It’s not far,” Judai said, taking the lead. “We’ve got ourselves a good place.”

A couple of turns, no more than five minutes, was all that it took. Shou had not expected such a short journey. Once they had come to one of the noisier streets, out eastward towards Nippori, there was only a short walk, then two more turns, just to the right.

Shou tried his best to remember.

The two of them came out to somewhere close to Nippori, and it was on one of the main streets that Judai stopped. The cafe, or what looked like it, was nestled between a dry cleaner and an old-looking bookshop.

“Well, there you have it.” He puffed his chest out with pride. “Better than Starbucks, I swear.”

_“…Miracle Fusion_?” Shou looked away, trying to stifle a laugh with his hand.

“Best name ever, right? It’s what we’re trying to do, you know - fuse a little bit of Japan with America. Cake and coffee, and if you’re that fussy, we’ll probably do _chai latte…_ ”

“It sounds like something out of a magical girl anime.”

“Even better! Thanks for the idea, actually. We could do with a mascot. A magical girl would be cute…”

Shou sighed, trying to rid his mind of the stupid image. This was not Akihabara, but Yanaka, almost Arakawa, and only getting further from the _otaku_ realm. Nakano had gotten to Judai, if anything.

“This isn’t the right place to open a maid cafe. We have cats in Yanaka, not cat girls.”

“Hey, we’re not a maid cafe!”

Shou shied away almost immediately, blushing with embarassment. “…Sorry.”

“What are you sorry about? I’m not mad, I was laughing… Come on, then.”

Judai pushed open the door, letting the bell chime. Shou was about to object, telling him the sign on the door clearly said ‘closed’, but realised just in time to avoid looking silly. He followed Judai in, thanking him for holding open the door.

The place itself did not look much different from the average Western coffee shop he had seen in Ueno, or Shibuya, or anywhere else, for that matter. The walls had been painted deep-red, closer to wine than coffee. A large, gilded mock-vintage mirror hung on one of the walls. Across the room, on the other side, was a street photograph of what was most likely some American downtown.

The counter was black, either marble or false marble, with coffee machines lining the back of the room. Shou sighed. Everything about Miracle Fusion, or whatever its stupid name was, looked modern. It was out of place. It did not belong in Yanaka. Somewhere like Akihabara, with its outlandish name, might have been more ideal, or Ikebukuro, or busy Shinjuku.

Yanaka did not need it. His father had been right. The Yuki family did not, and probably would not belong here.

“I’m back. Brought Shou with me!” Judai called out, seemingly to nobody. The downstairs was empty. The room itself had no chairs or tables, only a sofa in one corner. If there had been chairs and tables for customers earlier, then they had all been put away.

The sound of footsteps and the rattle of bead curtains forced Shou to turn straight back to the front of the coffee shop. A woman emerged from the back of the shop, one hand still caught in a mess of chocolate hair, trying to pull out a large hairpin.

“Good, I was wondering about you,” she said, trying to keep eye contact while messing with the troublesome hairpin.  She fidgeted with it for a few more seconds before it came out. Only then did she fully look back at the two boys.

“Sorry about that,” she added, looking over at Shou. “I’m Eri. Just Eri, not Yuki-san.”

“Marufuji Shou. It’s a pleasure to meet you… Eri-san.” He had tried to be polite, as he had been taught. Calling her by her first name threw him off. It was rare that he had ever needed to call someone his senior by their first name from the first time.

 _Is that an American thing?_ He couldn’t help but wonder. Her accent was a little odd to his ears, though she did not look entirely Western.

“Judai told me about you. Good thing you came. We were just finishing off with the training. It takes more than just two people to run a coffee shop… Come on, through the back. There’s still a bit of cake left.”

She gestured with her hand, and Judai followed. Shou couldn’t help but feel a little awkward, going through to the employees’ part of the coffee shop when he did not work there. It was no more different than going back at Amaruya, but here, he was a stranger.

Still, he followed. The back room was just through a small hallway. A bathroom was marked with a paper-and-tape sign on one side, with the employees’ room just further down. Shou walked in, after Eri and Judai, noticing a small kitchen by the window, and a few chairs. A half-eaten plate of cake rested on a small table in the corner.

Two boys, looking to be around his and Judai’s age, if not older, were sat on opposite ends of the room. One was sipping coffee in the corner; the other was leaning on the edge of a kitchen counter, his cup pushed to one side. In his hands was a half-eaten cookie.

Before Shou could apologise for intruding, Judai was already in conversation with them. “You guys still here?”

“I’m having a break here. Let me have it in peace, if you don’t mind,” said the boy leaning on the counter. He looked up for the first time since the group had entered, and almost jumped at the sight. “I’m sorry about that, Eri-san.”

His voice had transformed, from a casual, frustrated drawl to something far more polite.

“It’s all right, Manjoume-kun.” Eri smiled back. “You’re tired, I expect.”

“It has been a tiring day,” Manjoume replied, still in his polite tone. “I will be going soon, though. Another ten minutes.”

“Shall I leave you to it?”

“Yes, that’s fine.” Manjoume said back, as did the other boy in the corner of the room. It was the first time Shou had heard any sound coming from him, save for the quiet sipping of coffee.

Eri turned back to Judai and Shou. “I’ll be out front if you want me. The cake you can share with Manjoume and Misawa-kun. They’ll be working here too.”

With that, she retreated back to the corridor. Shou heard the sound of a closet opening and closing, and wondered how he had missed it before, before the beaded curtain rattled once more.

Judai went up behind him and shut the door to the room. “Well, there you have it. This is Miracle Fusion. Our little slice of America in Tokyo. What do you think?”

It was an odd question. The place looked no different from any other coffee shop Shou had seen. Even the employees, a pair of high schoolers like himself from the looks of it, were nothing radically different. The scent of coffee already in the air made him sigh. He was already thinking of the comforting herbs and teas of Amaruya, back home and waiting for him.

“It’s… OK,” Shou admitted, trying to be polite.

“Don’t bother making it out to be any better than it’s going to be.”

Shou turned around, facing Manjoume, who had quipped in. “What do you mean?”

“Look at this place. I mean, what the heck? Came to the wrong place if you wanted anything fancy,” Manjoume complained, his politeness as gone as the cookie he had been eaten. Crumbs stood out against the black of his shirt. “At least some of us get work out of here.”

“That’s a reason to like this place, though.” Judai said back. “It’s not stuck-up. That, and the cake was good, right?”

“Average.”

“Hey, _do not_ say that - “

“Doesn’t matter. At least I get it for free,” he scowled, putting his cup down with a slam. Drops of coffee trickled down the side, spilling over onto the counter. “That, and I’m getting paid for work here.”

“How much work are you doing?” Shou asked.

“Few days a week in the afternoons. Maybe a weekend or two.”

“Hey, aren’t you in high school?” Judai interrupted, before Shou could ask the question himself, though a little more rudely than Shou could have done.

“Homeschooled, thanks very much. Don’t need any of your crap.”

_“Right…”_ Judai backed down awkwardly. “What about you?” He asked, turning to the quieter boy in the corner. “Misawa?”

“Just after school, twice a week. Sundays as well. Hopefully, it won’t clash too much with cram school,” Misawa replied, turning around. Unlike Manjoume, Misawa was much more polite, and even with Eri gone, it did not seem like an act.

“Cram school, huh? What for?” Manjoume asked with a sneer.

“Physics and mathematics. I’m hoping for _Todai_ to take me.”

“Wow. Some _nerd_ you are.”

“You’re the homeschooled one,” Misawa said back, somewhat offended. “What _is_ your problem, anyway?”

“Too much sensibility, too little time to spend listening to you.”

“If you don’t want to listen to others, then why are you getting a job at a place like this?”

“Do I have to explain it to you?”

“You could.”

“You don’t need to know what’s not relevant to you. And pouring coffee doesn’t exactly look like quantum physics to me, dimwit.”

Misawa slammed his cup down, the coffee almost gone and making far less of a splash that Manjoume’s had made on the counter. He stood up, pacing over to Manjoume. Shou stepped back, subconsciously scooting towards the door. The air seemed more tense by the second. He did not want to witness a fight on his first visit here.

“Don’t call me that!” Misawa snapped, raising his voice.

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re probably working here because you don’t have a choice. Scared your smarts won’t get you into _Todai?_ Wanting to bribe ‘em? Or what, can you not pay for it, _Einstein?”_

“I’m not…” Misawa quivered just for a second, before leaping back into the argument. “I’m just trying to work. Do you not have any _values_?”

“Screw your values. I don’t even have to be here. I’ve got more money than you, and that’s a fact. I mean, seriously, when are your clothes from? That sweater looks like it’s been around ten years.”

“In that case, call it _vintage_ , and that’s perfectly fine by me.”

“Just because you can’t afford anything better.”

“And you say that you can? It doesn’t matter how expensive that shirt of yours was, it looks like a pig ate while wearing it.”

Manjoume’s eyes widened, before quickly reaching down to dust the cookie crumbs off of himself. “Don’t claim you’re so perfect yourself. You were getting in my way all the time today.”

“I was doing my job!” Misawa argued.

“Well, you were clearly _not_ doing it right. Just go home already.”

“That’s not going to work on me. You need better insults…”

Shou found himself unable to step into the conversation. The argument had grown, and his small voice, much quieter than either of theirs, was drowned out immediately. He hoped that Eri would hear, and come in to quieten both Manjoume and Misawa, but as seconds ticked by in his head, he heard nothing, neither shouts nor the rattling of the beads on the curtain.

He looked to Judai, hoping he would be able to help. Silently, Shou tugged on his sleeve.

“I don’t know what they’re even arguing over,” Judai whispered, turning to face him. “But if you want to grab some cake, I don’t think they’d care.”

Shou did not want to get caught up in the mess. “…Can you do it?”

“Sure, I’ll go get it.”

Ignoring the shouting, Judai skirted around Manjoume and Misawa. He was paid no attention. Carefully, he took the plate and brought it over to Shou, as if the argument on one side of the room was not there. From the looks of it, it was on the verge of descending into something far worse.

“Here. You want some? Mom cut it up already.”

“…Sure?” Shou asked, feeling uneasy. “Wasn’t it supposed to be for the people working here?”

“Yeah,” Judai said. “Perfectly fine, it’s all been left over. Mom knew I was going to get you to come. Go on, take some.”

Shou hesitated, but carefully reached for a slice. He stopped halfway. “Are there any plates, or napkins?”

“Nah, don’t bother. Nobody’s judging you in the back here, and those two,” Judai said, gesturing at the calming, but ongoing contest between Misawa and Manjoume, “aren’t in the mood for it, either.”

A little uneasily, Shou went ahead. He took a slice, hoping it was not the largest as not to seem rude. It crumbled a little in his hands, and he winced with guilt, seeing the chocolate crumbs litter the floor. It was hard to keep it together. Trying his best to keep the mess down, he brought it closer and closer, and took a bite.

He had eaten chocolate cake before - not often, he admitted - but it had been far from what Judai’s mother had made. The cake was softer, a little sweeter and richer, with buttery cream that melted gently on his tongue and stuck to his mouth a little.

“It’s good,” he admitted, once he had swallowed it down. It was tempting to take another bite. “Really good.”

“Told you,” Judai smiled back. “We don’t kid when we say we do really good cake here. I kind of half-made it.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I did the cream in the middle. I can make the whole thing, but I didn’t have time to. School, you know, and all that…”

Judai took a slice for himself. Diving in with no hesitation, a few crumbs fell on the floor, but he ignored them, too happy with himself and the cake to notice. Shou did the same, a little more neatly, savouring the taste of the cream his friend had been so proud of.

His mouth began to feel dry. He waited for Judai to finish his mouthful, before asking him. “…Do you have any tea?”

Judai shook his head. Whether it was because of the stickiness of the cake, or not wanting to talk too loud in the room, Shou could not tell. “Well, we can do a chai latte, probably. I don’t know.”

Shou had never enjoyed milky tea. He had sold blends which were best made with it, but he had never taken to milk, on its own or mixed in.

“…It’s all right. I think I’ll be fine,” he admitted, still trying to be polite. Judai only laughed, whether he had seen through him or not.

Behind them, Misawa and Manjoume were calming. Somehow, by sheer luck, the fight had not gone on. Eyes still fixed on each other like cats in a fight, they were drawing apart.

Eri was bustling around the main shop floor, most likely cleaning or putting up more decor. Judai was on his second slice of cake, and Shou debated doing the same.

Time ticked on with the clock at the front of the cafe, but neither he nor Judai heard it. Being late home was the least of Shou’s worries. The cake had been good, and he had a friend by his side. In the end, he decided, it would not matter.

Amongst the taste of cake and the smell of bitter black coffee, all thoughts of the past repeating itself were forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other parts of Tokyo Shou mentions are all real. Akihabara, as you may know, is probably the otaku capital of Tokyo, but Nakano has quite a famous complex also known for geeky and moe stuff, hence Shou wondering if living there for a bit rubbed off on Judai.
> 
> Todai (Tokyo Daigaku) refers to the University of Tokyo, by the way.
> 
> Judai’s mother is a pretty interesting character as is, though in the past, things probably weren’t so cheerful. I might write some extra stuff about that in the future as an add-on to this story… and yes, we have two more canon characters! I’m going to admit they’re not in this fic as much as I’d like, but I’m planning to expand on them more in what may be a sequel.
> 
> Just a bit of fun: if Miracle Fusion did have a mascot, it would probably be the adorable Card Ejector.
> 
> As always, please leave a review. Kudos are cool but comments are my life.


	6. Ch. 6

_** chapter six. ** _

Shou was alone on the Saturday after.

It was not that Judai had not wanted to come with him to the House of Flowers. He had been enthusiastic, but work at the coffee shop took precedence. As the leaflets had advertised, opening day would be Saturday. Judai was needed, as were Misawa and Manjoume. Judai confessed that he could only hope there would not be a fight on the day.

Eri had said that she was counting on all of them, Judai included. Saturday was going to be busy, and Judai had told Shou to come after work. His mother had promised a small celebration, toasting the opening of Miracle Fusion.

_Invite a friend if you want, or your family. We’ll welcome them all,_ Eri had said, but none were on his mind save for Judai, and he was already bound to be there. His father already despised the coffee shop simply because it existed. Inviting his mother alone would be awkward.

That Saturday morning, as he got up and prepared himself to deliver tea after breakfast, he decided that he would not invite anyone. Judai was already invited. It was enough.

The journey to the House was quicker this time, more like the usual - he could walk a little more briskly, but spend as much time as he wanted looking around at the streets of Yanaka. He could stop to make faces at the neighbourhood cats, at the cost of having to shoo them away from his box. He could wave to the other shopkeepers and residents, and smile at small children as they passed him by, without so much as a care.

Yanaka, undisturbed, was the place he loved most in the world.

He was no stranger to the crossroads of Shibuya, or to the colours of Akihabara, having been to both many times. Yanaka was not quite like them. Nothing quite resembled his neighbourhood, he knew, with its old narrow streets and traditional shops, and the warm, comforting feeling of home that its people, and cats, gave off as he passed them by. Where most of Tokyo had turned to glass and concrete, Yanaka had held on to its past.

_The past,_ Shou thought, recalling what he knew, and who. _Maybe I can ask Kagemaru-san about the past._

His heart began to beat faster at the thought of finding out what he had meant. Why was his and Judai’s friendship at risk? What did he mean by the past repeating itself?

_No,_ he realised. _I can’t ask him. He doesn’t know that I overheard him._ Butting in would reveal it all. He did not want Kagemaru to be angry at him, and he was a friend to the House. He did not want to lost the trust of the residents, or Mizuchi’s trust either.

He went on, with the thought lingering on in his head, far from pleasant. Curiosity pounded away at his insides, begging for answers. Reason fought back. He had to act rationally, above all else, as his morals dictated. He was the heir to an honest business, and as such, honesty had to be valued.

When he finally reached the gates of the House, he rang the intercom and waited for Mizuchi to answer. She was always around on weekends, he knew, and it sent a wave of relief through him as he remembered. It was a relief to know that Mizuchi would be supportive enough, no matter what happened.

She welcomed him in at the front door, as she usually did, and took the box of tea herself, seeing her own personal blend marked out with her name. She had become accustomed to Shou bringing it, just the way she liked it. He could remember it exactly after a year: black tea mixed with chamomile, and a small hint of raspberry on occasion. He had started putting it in for variety, week by week, and Mizuchi did not object. Either kind she would happily brew and mix with a spoonful of honey.

As always, she would pay him once monthly, and there was no payment this week. He had an hour and a half to spend at the House, said the clock on his phone. Mizuchi had no objections. His father said nothing.

“All right,” Shou said to himself, as he paced through the corridor of the House, trying to compose himself. _Kagemaru-san will be outside, as usual. I can try and ask him about something. I can’t ask him outright, but I can try my best to find out something._

_Maybe,_ he thought, _there might be a chance. I could find out what it is about the past that he doesn’t like._

He picked up the shoes he had left by the front porch, and took them through in his hands, until he came to the back of the building. He could hear the sounds of the same regular chatter in the garden. He peered outside and saw the elders, as they had been the previous week, some enjoying the cool spring air and others frowning at the pollen that lingered still from the blossoms of April.

“Hey! _Shou-chan!”_

He cringed a little at Tome’s nickname for him. Even if it was embarrassing, he still smiled back, giving her a small wave as he struggled to put his shoes on quickly enough. Tome was the only one who he allowed nicknames from - even if they made him blush, she would always make up for it with hugs and a kind ear for his troubles, no matter how trivial.

_Call me Auntie,_ she’d said to him once. Politeness prevailed, and she was still Tome-san.

He joined her as quickly as he could. “Sorry, I got caught up in things.”

“That’s all right,” she said, her voice sweet and calming. “We were waiting for you. No Judai today?”

“Yeah,” Shou replied. “He’s having to work today. His family’s coffee shop opens today.”

“A coffee shop, you say? That American one?” Samejima chuckled. “Well, wish him luck from me. Bit of a challenge around here. Could do with one.”

Shou had expected more negativity from the older man. Samejima, from what he knew of him, had not grown up in the area, but had come from south of Tokyo, and then settled in the area. He had heard the story of the gardening accident that had left him paralysed from the waist down, and it saddened him as he recalled it. He had not been old enough for white hairs to start coming through on his beard when it happened. Now, they were starting to come, a little more with each visit.

“Yeah. They do make good cake there.”

“Cake, hm? He’d better pass me that recipe. Might make that for my daughter when she comes home next time. She was always partial to cake,” Tome reminisced. “Shame she’s off in Osaka now, and with a fiancé no less…”

Shou swore he glimpsed a tear in the corner of Tome’s eye as she dabbed with her fingers. ”Can’t believe she’ll be married in summer…”

“Time goes by fast, huh? Wasn’t so long ago I was still teaching. Back then I was still climbing trees, too…” Samejima reached out, one large hand brushing up against Tome’s arm. “Shame it’s all in the past now. I wouldn’t mind the sound of more rowdy schoolboys running through the hallways again. This place just gets so quiet sometimes, I can’t help but think I’m half dead.”

“At least we have Shou-chan here. It wouldn’t be the same without you here, you know that?” Tome smiled.

Shou did, too, for a moment, before he recalled what he had come out to do.

“…Excuse me. I’ll be back in a bit, if that’s all right.”

He didn’t wait for them to nod before he turned towards the old man he had spotted.

Kagemaru was on his own, as he tended to be. Whether it was his status amongst the residents of the house, or his pride, or the fact that he seemed to despise almost everyone at times, Shou did not know. Kagemaru avoided company. Nobody dared to ask why. When the nurses tried to talk to him, he would object, or end up drifting off into too long a rambling conversation for anyone to keep up. What he had done before he came to the House, few knew, and those that did just did not discuss.

He walked up towards the old man, and he turned around slowly. His face was neither pleased nor grumpy; an oddity, but a pleasant one nonetheless. It was better to catch him in a longing, thinking sort of mood than a bad one, Shou had learned over the past year.

“Kagemaru-san?” He called, feeling himself tense a little.

The old man looked on, eyes dark as ever. Looking at him felt like looking at a judge, and Shou couldn’t stop himself shaking as if he was a criminal himself.

_I’ve done nothing wrong,_ he reminded himself, _I’m going to be all right. I’m just going to ask him._

“…What is it?”

“I - I was just wondering about something. I thought you could help me with it.”

“What with?”

He had to think of a lie, fast. He couldn’t afford to let the truth slip. Kagemaru would never forgive him for listening in. “A - a school project. A history project.”

He swore he had seen the old man’s eyes widen for an instant, before he straightened up in his wheelchair. Had he seen though him? His hands grappled with one another in an attempt to keep himself calm in front of Kagemaru’s sharp stare.

Kagemaru said nothing for a few seconds. When he finally did, it was in his usual croak, far from awe or wonder. “History. History, hmph… What about?”

“Um… like, anything interesting happened around here?”

Inside, Shou felt like slapping himself as soon as the words had come out. _You couldn’t have said anything more obvious, could you? He’ll work you out at this rate, come on…_ “Like, any local stories, or anything like that?”

Whether the past that was repeating itself had anything to do with Yanaka’s history or not, he did not know. It was worth a try, nonetheless -he had bought himself time, and now he had to come up with something better.

“Hmmm…” Kagemaru grunted, pondering. Whether he had fallen for it or not, Shou could not be certain, but he hoped that he would be able to answer nonetheless. “There are some. Yanaka did survive a lot more than most of this damn city. Ueno was bombed out. Yanaka stayed.”

“Why’s that?” Shou asked.

“Nothing here to bomb. The Americans couldn’t be bothered wasting bombs on this place. At least they saw reason. Went and bombed Asakusa instead.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Not a good time, no matter who died…”

Shou stopped to think for a second. If the war was not connected, then something else had to be.

“What about folklore? Is - is there anything like that?”

He had heard all kinds of things about the cats of Yanaka, but all of them sounded like superstitions. He was looking for the real past, for whatever it was Kagemaru had worried about, something that was threatening to tear apart his friendship with Judai if he left it to fester.

He swallowed. He did not want his one friendship to be put to an end by something beyond his control.

“…There are enough temples for you to go and find that out yourself.” Kagemaru sighed. “You’re young. Go and ask the keepers if you’re so interested in the gods and spirits.”

“N - no, it’s not that,” Shou stuttered. “I mean, like… is there any kind of interesting local history? Like, something that - “

“First it’s history, then it’s folklore. Make up your mind,” Kagemaru interrupted. Shou froze, his heart racing with sudden fear. “Either way, I don’t have anything to tell you.”

“B-but - “

“I don’t want to talk about it. You’re young and strong. You can look around at the museum, or the shrines, or anywhere else. I’m staying here.”

“But I never said - “

“Just leave me alone.”

He turned around, sighing, hand against his forehead, as if stressed out. Shou knew he had no choice. He had failed. Not only had he gained no answers, but now Kagemaru was refusing to talk to him, and he could ask nobody else. He could not be sure if any of the other elders knew.

Nobody else had the suspicions Kagemaru did. They did not know; only Shou had been listening. The old man did not talk to others much, and even Tome struggled to squeeze words out of him, other than words of complaint and longing for youth.

_Tome_ , he thought. Perhaps, she had heard of the past repeating itself - but the longer Shou thought, staring out into nowhere, the more he wanted to give up on the search. Kagemaru had not told Tome what that past was, and she was not quite local herself. She had moved a few years ago, and her daughter had gone to Osaka, and that daughter was soon getting married. Time had passed, but it was not enough time for her to know enough.

_I’m worrying too much about this. I’ve got to stop worrying. There’s nothing I can do about this._

He turned around, biting his lip and looking up at the sky in hope. He had to stay strong.

_I can’t. The past is repeating itself. I can’t stay friends with Judai if it does. Kagemaru knows best. I can’t do it. I can’t._

The fear was still there. He could not shrug off the feeling of dread that was roosting inside of him.

He could feel his throat growing raw with panic. Even the calm blue of the sky was not calming enough; his heart was still racing, his hands shaky and damp with sweat and unstoppable worries. His chest seized up for a second. His pulse beat like mad in his neck.

Shaking his head free of new dizziness, he tried and failed to compose himself, looking away from all of the others and heading back inside. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stay out there, where Kagemaru hated him now and the others would probably find out that he had acted strange with the old man, and he would find out that he had tried to talk to him about the past, about the thing he had overheard - the things he was _not supposed to have heard…_

He did not hear Tome shout out his name as he kicked off his shoes, picking them up and dropping them again as they slipped from his hold. He needed time alone. He could barely keep himself walking straight; the panic was seizing him, and the thoughts were looping inside of him, over and over, over and over…

_I’m going to lose Judai. It’s just like the past - I don’t know what that means, but it is just like the past. Whatever happened must have gone badly, and it’s going bad now. There’s nothing I can do - nothing, nothing - nothing…_

“Shou? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Shou’s heart stopped for a second.

He turned around, shoulders unsteady. Behind him was the tall, slender figure of Mizuchi.

Had she heard? It wasn’t likely, he thought - she had been inside. Perhaps she had found out beforehand, or he had done something else that was bad - 

_Oh no,_ he realised. _I messed up the tea order, didn’t I?_

He had to be in trouble. He had messed up the order, or said something stupid, or his father had said something to Mizuchi, or she really had seen him asking Kagemaru about the past, or… He did not know what he had done; but he had done something. It was a fact. She would not have asked him as firmly, as sternly, otherwise.

He had done something bad, and Mizuchi was about to scold him.

Wordlessly, she turned around, and he had no choice but to follow. As he walked, he felt his throat well up with sickness. The walls seemed smaller. They were closing in. Shou clenched his fists in an attempt to stay calm, but it was barely effective. Still, his hands shook, and his heart beat as if he had run all the way from home to the House.

A few steps ahead, Mizuchi opened the door to her office - the manager’s office, but it was still hers to use - and gestured at Shou to follow her in. She did not sit down at the desk, as Shou thought she would, standing by it instead and leaning on it, as if to perch on its edge. A tray and some tissues in a box were shoved aside slightly, along with one of the mirrors Mizuchi collected, and she adjusted them before she turned back to Shou.

He was in the centre of the room, ready to hear out his errors. His throat was dry. He could say nothing. He was surrounded by mirrors.

Mizuchi spoke up. “Shou, what’s wrong with you?” Her voice was far from the stern command he expected to hear. Her eyes were wide with concern. 

“N-nothing,” he lied, stammering a little. The mirrors on the shelves had grown eyes; they were staring at him.

“You don’t seem to be all right today. You looked really nervous when you were outside, around Kagemaru-san. Are you sure you feel good? I’m asking you out of safety. You shouldn’t be coming here if you’re sick.”

He had not felt sick when he woke up that morning, not until he remembered that today, he would try and speak to old man Kagemaru. His fingers still trembled. He took hold of one hand, hoping Mizuchi would not notice. He did not want to go home. He still had questions. Kagemaru had barely said anything, and most of what he wanted to know was still a mystery.

“I… I’m not sick. I promise.” His voice came out a little too quiet; he hoped he did not sound sick to Mizuchi. “I guess… I was just anxious.”

“What about? You can tell me. I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

There was something motherly about the face looking at him - perhaps, in her eyes, or the way that she spoke, or the gentle look on her face even amongst her sharp features. Mizuchi was gentle, in ways that Shou had only had his mother show affection to him. His mother could speak the same way, and she knew that it soothed him, no matter what. Even when his father had lashed out at him, or he had failed in something and humiliated himself that day, his mother would always be there. It made him embarrassed, thinking how close he still was to her, but he loved her, he knew. His mother was the closest family member he had.

He had always looked up to his brother, and he could give smiles too, but they had dwindled away in the years before Ryou had left. It was then that his father’s eyes had grown grim; the shape of his eyes harsher, even with wrinkles beginning to form in their corners.

He sighed. His heart clenched and unclenched. His hands were clammy with panic.

“I… I was asking Kagemaru about the past.”

It had been the truth. He had worried about the best way to say it all through the previous night. He did not want to make it obvious that he had overheard Kagemaru. It would be unacceptable.

“Is this for school? For a history project? The cultural festival?”

_The cultural festival - I should have told him it was for that… I’m so stupid…_

“No - I mean, yes, I mean no…” He blurted out, realising his stupid mistake too late for it to be taken back. He looked down, hiding embarrassment. His face was beginning to sear. He had done it now…

_Maybe I can tell her the truth,_ he wondered, in the midst of desperately trying to keep up the act.

He took a deep breath. “Mizuchi-san, I… I overheard him talking about something to do with the past. I shouldn’t have been listening. I’m so sorry.”

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He shook, not knowing what Mizuchi would say, or what to say now. There was no choice but to carry on talking, hoping that he would be able to save himself. He did not want to invoke Mizuchi’s, or Kagemaru’s, or anybody else’s wrath.

“I - I heard him, last week, when I came here with Judai… He said something about the past repeating itself, and… and that we wouldn’t be friends for long, because things are going to be just like the past, and I don’t know what that means. I wanted to ask him, because he might tell me.” He choked back the beginnings of tears, hoping he could hold as much back as possible.

“…Because I don’t understand. Judai’s my first friend in a long time, and he’s actually my age. I just wanted a friend. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to be alone…”

He tried to look up, but his eyes were watery enough to blur everything out.

“I… I don’t want to be alone… but I always end up like that…”

His breaths grew louder as he found himself at a loss, letting a tear streak down. It was childish, he knew - not mature, he was seventeen years old and letting himself cry like a child. His father would not approve of it. He was weak, and stupid, and a bad friend - he would lose Judai because he did not deserve him; he would mess up, and Judai would never speak to him again, just like Kagemaru…

The mirrors had eyes of their own. They were starting and staring.

The sudden feeling of warm hands on his shoulders rendered him breathless.

“It’s all right,” he heard Mizuchi’s voice, muffled into the mess of his hair. “It’s all right. Just breathe,” she said, her tone almost motherly. “You can do it. Just let yourself breathe. You can calm down.”

“I - I can’t -"

“You can,” she repeated. “Relax. You can lean on me if you like. I’m here. I’m going to listen, all right? You just have to breathe. Stop for a second, lean on me and take a deep breath, OK?”

He could barely see straight. His head, chest and throat ached, all at once. It was painful to think, even more so to speak. His breaths were stopping and starting, out of control.

“Just… just slow down. Don’t let the panic take hold. Breathe.”

It was an uphill struggle. He needed something to stop his hands shaking; reflexively, he grabbed the closest thing to himself, namely Mizuchi’s arms, but she did not pull away. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut and clinging on to her, then took a breath in, then out again.

“Like - like this?”

Mizuchi nodded, letting him cling on. Her arms reached around him, pulling him into a warm hug. “That’s it. Now, do it again. Count to seven.”

The rush of feeling was still there, but Mizuchi was stable, there in front of him. Shou leaned in, focusing on his breaths, in and out, just like she said. _One, two, three…_ His body tried to breathe faster, but he kept clinging on, hoping he was not hurting Mizuchi. He needed the comfort, at least something. It was good, he admitted - better than being alone, far, far better.

The mirrors had eyes, but slowly, their stares were starting to fade.

“That’s it. Again.”

He breathed, like she said, keeping count of the seconds, then out again, over and over. Slowly, he felt the panic fading out. His heartbeat calmed down, gradually and a little unsteadily. It was as if his conscience had been separated from his body, and only now was it coming back - he was regaining control of himself, and seeing clearer, and feeling more acutely.

There were a few more minutes of silence. Nothing but the clock sounded out. The faint sounds from outside were barely audible in Mizuchi’s office. Shou could hear them more clearly as time passed, and even the texture of her blouse was clearer beneath his fingertips. Feeling a little more conscious, he let go. He needed the space, and she probably needed it even more after he had clung to her.

“Does that feel better? It’s all right. You can sit down.” Mizuchi said, her voice soft like before. How she was not angry, Shou was not sure. She gestured to her chair, and he took the seat obediently.

“…Thank you.” He breathed out, the last of the panic ebbing away, out of his skin and blood.

“It’s all right.”

“You’re… you’re so good at this.” Shou murmured. He could see clearer now, even with his eyes a little damp still. She did not look angry, to his surprise. He hoped that she truly was not.

“It’s not a problem. I just know how to deal with these things.”

“…How?”

“It’s just experience. Not the psychology degree.”

“R-really?”

“It’s just a small thing. You can use it yourself. It’s what they taught my brother to use during one of his episodes. I just picked it up.” Mizuchi reached forward and tugged a few tissues out of the box. “Here, take some if you need it. I know it gets tough.”

“Thank you,” Shou said again. He took them, scrunching one up in his hands before wiping at his eyes.

“Would you like some tea? The kind you brought over?”

“Oh, the raspberry - I added some more of it this time.”

“You remembered? Thank you for that.” Mizuchi smiled, picking up the bag of tea leaves bearing her name from the box. She had put it on one side of her desk, ready to be sorted out later. Her own would always be taken out first and put separately, just as she preferred, ready to make whenever she had a spare moment to herself in the office.

Shou sighed with relief. He had not messed up the order, as he had thought. Recalling the evening before, he could still remember the exact proportions he had mixed with her usual chamomile.

As the small office kettle brewed in the background, Mizuchi began to move the papers cluttering her desk around, making space. She had already gotten out two cups, both her own and identical to each other.

It had been a surprise, months ago, when Shou had learned of Mizuchi’s psychology degree. From her penchant for traditional tea to the Worcester porcelain teacups she had picked up on a trip to England and the antique mirrors she collected, he had thought of her as a history student, if not a philosophy graduate. The books on mythology and spirituality he had seen her reading in her office had whet his appetite, and it was then that she had told him, and suddenly burst the bubble.

Shou had laughed, awkwardly so. He understood tea far better than he could understand most other humans.

Maybe, he thought, Mizuchi was an exception. Some of the elders, too. Judai was the only friend he had of his own age, and he had not known him for long.

The water in the kettle came to a boil, and Mizuchi poured them a cup each. For the rest of the time he had at the House, he stayed in the office, warming himself up with a warm cup in his hands. The two of them talked, about grades and Mizuchi’s family, and her work, while Shou talked about some of the customers he had seen earlier that week.

When the time came to go, the walk home was much slower than usual. He could not stop himself spacing out, his mind drifting to both thoughts of Mizuchi and Kagemaru, as much as he tried to forget his talk with the latter. Then came work, and the unusual bustle that day pushed everything out.

Shou was far too exhausted by the time he finished his shift to do anything other than plunge himself into his bedsheets and think about nothing for the rest of the evening.

The promise of discounted chocolate cake, as one of Judai’s leaflets had said, and the opening day of _Miracle Fusion_ had both been completely forgotten amongst the rest of the chaos.

 


	7. Ch. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was no music last time. This time: the title might sound a little bit cliche, [but there's more to it under the surface.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWvQjL1HK9o)

_**chapter seven.** _

The morning after, Shou awoke to find himself bombarded with messages.

He had made the mistake of not checking his phone until then. He had been first busy, then tired. Fate had been against him the day before. He had completely forgotten everything. As he read, one to the next, rapid-fire words coming up and up into his vision, he realised what he had forgotten - more than just to reply - and felt guilt storming through him like a hurricane.

_Are you coming? We’ve got a good crowd!_

_You coming?_

_We’re closing up now, almost out of cake, sorry_

_You missed it :(_

_Sorry :(_

One by one, Judai’s messages were read, and so the guilt settled.

Shou let the phone fall onto his bed, his head leaning into his hands. He had been completely and utterly dumb. _Some friend I was_ , he thought, wishing he could sink into the ground and be swallowed up. Judai was going to hate him. 

It had been all his fault. He had panicked at the House, and spent so much time trying to calm that he had let it slip his mind. Then, he had been dealing with customers for hours - it had been one of the busier days - but even then, he had not found time to tell Judai that he could not come. He had left him hanging, all through the day, without so much as a word.

_Oh my God,_ he thought. _I’m so stupid. No wonder Kagemaru said we weren’t going to stay friends. Some friend I am._

Quickly, before his heart began to race too fast for him to calm down by himself, he sent a quick message, praying that Judai was not angry at him. _I’m so sorry, I forgot. I will explain._

He sent it, then put the phone down, burying his head in his pillow. Like Mizuchi had told him the day before, he closed his eyes, trying to focus and breathe. He could only hope that he would be forgiven, even if what he had done had been stupid.

Judai forgiving him was one thing. Forgiving himself was another.

_Would I forgive me, if I were him?_

Before he could reply, the telltale tone of a message rang out. Desperately, he pulled his phone out of the mess of sheets he had left.

Judai had sent something back. Shou braced himself. At least, Judai was still talking to him. Hoping for calmness, he opened it. His hands were unsteady as he waited for the message to show.

_It’s all right. Things happen - but you got to tell me. You free today?_

Shou gasped, realising. It was Sunday. The shop was closed, and he had all the free time he could wish for. He had a little homework to do, but it wasn’t too hard - and knowing Judai, he would be asking for help on it. If Judai wanted, he would offer him help.

He needed the company. Judai needed an explanation.

_All right,_ he typed out. _Are you free today? I am._

It did not take long for an answer to come. _Sure, Mom’s running the show. Misawa’s on duty. Without Manjoume this time._

Shou sighed with relief.

_You can come round,_ he replied.

It was only after he sent the message that he realised that he had not asked his father. The bitter look he had given him at the very mention of Judai and his coffee shop, weeks ago, had terrified him. He froze, eyes like a wounded rabbit, at the thought of letting the two of them come into contact.

He could only hope that his mother would push them apart, if things were to come to the worst. When he had mentioned Judai to her, a few evenings past, she had said nothing bad, only giving a nod, and what he knew to be the closest thing she had to a smile.

_That’s good,_ she had said. _You’ve got a friend now._

Judai was the closest thing to a friend that he had. He had been there at school and he had come to the House, and accepted Shou. His loneliness had not scared him off; he could only hope that his negiglence had not made him doubt. It had surprised Shou that Judai had stayed.

That surprise had given him hope for the future.

_Do I tell him the truth, then?_

Would he believe it? He cringed at the thought of telling Judai about his panic attack; shaking his head at the memory, he decided to put it aside. The customers at work were probably not going to be of any interest, either. If Judai had spent the day at Miracle Fusion, he had probably had his fill of strangers and voices and looks.

What was still there was the question of the past repeating itself.

Everything about it still left him on edge. Why had Kagemaru refused to talk? Why had he told him to go away to a shrine, without even telling him which one to go to? It felt strange, he realised, as he ate his breakfast in silence that morning. Kagemaru had sunk into a worse mood than usual at the first mention of history.

_Is he hiding something? What does he know? Why can’t he tell me? What does it mean?_

There were too many questions to answer. How he would pry out the answers, if he even could, he did not know.

He did not speak to anyone that morning, not even his mother. Where she had gone, he did not know. His father was rarely home on Sundays, most likely out on one of his walks, wandering through Ueno with a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. The house was quiet as he tidied the kitchen. When Judai would be here, he did not know. Judai had not told him.

It was as he was about to go back to his room that he heard knocking. Hurrying, he opened the door - and before he could say as much as ‘hello’, he fell back, having been tackled by someone stronger than him.

“Hey! Where were you, seriously?” Judai exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Shou into a hug, still leaning into him from the force of the tackle. “We waited and waited yesterday, and you never showed up. You never even said anything… Hey, you sure you’re OK?”

Shou could say nothing, still taken aback.

“Seriously, you should have said.”

“Um, well, you see…” Shou paused, uncertain. If he told Judai the truth, would he accept it? He did not need to know, not really - it was an embarrassment, he thought, to have had a panic attack over Kagemaru’s reaction. Explaining to him that he feared something as… _superstitious_ , he thought, as history repeating itself, was going to be too much effort. He did not need Judai judging him, of all things.

“I… felt kind of sick,” he finished. “I didn’t want to throw up anywhere.”

For a second, Judai quirked an eyebrow, as if unconvinced, and then his face relaxed quickly. “Ah, right. Well, that’s fine. Mom would have quarantined you, you know…”

He let out a chuckle, and Shou tried to laugh along.

“So,” Judai continued, “you want to know what happened yesterday?”

“What?”

“We almost sold out. You should have seen the crowds! People were all over us! Mom was going at the oven like crazy. Told you her cake is amazing,” Judai said, puffing out his chest. “I didn’t finish until way late. It was that tense.”

Shou’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“No kidding. Seriously, come have coffee with us some time.”

Inside, Shou debated as to whether to remind Judai that he despised coffee. He changed his mind at the last minute. He did not feel like arguing. Even if coffee would always be terrible to him, the cake he had tasted had been like nothing else. Perhaps he would, if he had time free from work. Whether Judai needed to know that or not was something he was not quite sure of.

He nodded, going along. “…Sure.”

Judai went on, pleased with the answer and full of pride. “All right, then that’s settled. You’ve got to come next time you’re free. I’ll do you cake on the house. Or maybe cookies. Sometimes Mom has her cookie days…”

He trailed off for a second. Shou wondered what else he and his family were capable of.

“Oh yeah, on that thought… I was thinking of something last night. Like, with the coffee shop getting popular.”

Shou felt a new pang of guilt for not having been there again. “What?”

“My mom was thinking of all kinds of ideas last night. Like, what if we did Christmas specials? Or something traditional for New Year?”

“But it’s only May.”

“Exactly!” Judai exclaimed. Shou jumped at the sudden sound. “Summer’s coming. We could make ice cream, and sell that too, if we wanted. If people don’t want baked goods, why don’t they have iced ones? All we need is an ice cream machine for that.”

Shou thought about it for a moment. He had always liked ice cream, unlike coffee. He did not know anyone who hated the treat. Judai was right. Miracle Fusion would most likely profit.

_But, still…_

As soon as the thought came into his head, the thought of risk began to gnaw away at him. He couldn’t help but worry, even if it was Judai’s idea and not his. _He_ was not at risk at all; not really, but Judai was, and something inside told him that Judai’s failures would be tied to his own. Judai was a friend. He would have to stop him doing anything strange or irrational, if his own family was unwilling to do it.

_Don’t they have something like Icarus flying too close to the sun?_

He hesitated, slightly unwilling to put up a challenge.

“But isn’t it risky? An ice cream machine would be expensive. And you’ve just started out…”

“I know,” Judai said. “That’s why I haven’t told my mom about the ice cream thing yet. I literally thought of it lying in bed last night.”

Shou breathed out a sigh of relief. “Have you even _tried_ to make ice cream before?”

Judai shook his head. “No, not really. Just seen it being made, I think. Actually, I don’t remember.”

“My mom tried to make it a few years back. It didn’t work.” Shou confessed, feeling a little guilty. His mother had been enthusiastic about it, brainstorming ideas left and right about the flavours she wanted to try, and all the opportunities she would have to experiment with it. Even his father had not outright condemned the idea, even if he had not looked too pleased about it. Perhaps, he thought, he was probably happy when her attempts all ended up failing, and her new job began to take up more and more time, and she had to put the machine in the attic later that year.

“Hey,” Shou realised, “Hold on. If you want to try it, I… I think we might have my mom’s ice cream maker somewhere. She tried it out, but it didn’t work. I think we still have it.”

There was a small silence. Judai had frozen - and suddenly, he broke into a smile. The new look on Judai’s face at that moment reminded Shou of a child being told of a trip to the seaside - or so he thought, before Judai grabbed at his shoulders, wild with excitement.

“Are you serious? Oh man, _please_ let me borrow that thing! I am _so_ trying this out! You mind showing it to me?”

Between his excited shouts, Shou could barely say a thing. “All right, all right!” He cried out between Judai shaking him. It had not been greatly unpleasant, he admitted, as Judai realised that he had been a little forward and backed off slightly.

He had not been touched physically by many people in the past.

As he led Judai upstairs, he smiled to himself. It felt pleasant to have someone care, for once. Maybe this was an opportunity to try something new out. Even if Judai’s plan seemed a little far-fetched, there was still something for them to do together other than homework and having little arguments over how bad or good each other’s preferences for tea and coffee were.

“Hold on,” he stopped him as both got to the upstairs landing. He left Judai there as he ran into his room to grab a chair.

He had always been a little on the short side for his age. It made him cringe still. He would hear the odd jeer or poke from the corners of whatever room he was in, and wish he could at least pass for his almost seventeen years. His brother had been the opposite - always masculine, tall, handsome in the eyes of virtually every girl he encountered. Shou had gotten the short end of the stick, and he had always resented it, almost as much as his solitude.

Heaving to pull the door open with a chair in his hands, he sighed with relief as Judai heard his struggles and opened it for him.

“Right,” he said, putting the chair down in the middle of the corridor. He pointed up. “See that door on the ceiling? That’s the attic.”

The ceiling was just lower there; Shou was sure that there had been permanent stairs there once, but they had long since been removed. The house above Amaruya was a little small otherwise for three people - or what had been four. With Ryou gone, there was a little more space, but his father had never suggested putting them back.

Judai looked up, following his lead. “Got it. You want me to go up there?”

Shyly, Shou nodded, knowing his limits. “Yeah. Just… just climb up and push it open. Then, you can fold out the stairs.”

“You’ve got stairs in there?”

“We… we have pretty much everything in there.” Shou cringed. He had not been up there for a long time. The last time his father had tried to find something there, not long ago, he had come back coughing dust. What he had gotten out, Shou had not seen.

“All right. Let’s give it a shot.”

Without hesitation, Judai leapt up onto the chair and reached. He was taller than Shou by a head, and his palms met the door with ease. He gave it a heave, and the door moved, up and down again with a slam. Shou winced, hoping that nobody had returned home. They would hear.

Judai gave it a second push, stronger this time. This time, the door flipped back on itself. The noise it made was a lot louder. What was past it was darker, Shou knew - the attic, or the upstairs room, as it formally was, had long since stopped being lit.

He turned around, hearing Judai mess with what had to be the wooden stair mechanism. He hoped it had not been eaten by termites. “I’ll be back in a second,” he said, rushing back into his room.

By the time he returned, a minute or so later with a large torch in hand, Judai was beginning to fold the stairs out. They creaked as they were unfolded, bit by bit. When he reached the halfway point, Judai leapt down from the chair and pulled it back slightly, before getting back on and unfolding the rest of it out.

“There you go. Is that it?”

Shou gave it a quick glance. Nothing seemed off. Judai gave it a test, raising a leg and placing it down. It did not bend or break underneath.

“Looks good to me,” he said, reaching out. “Can you pass me that torch? I’m gonna go in there.”

Nodding, Shou passed it, and Judai went in. The torch was switched on, and a pale yellow spotlight began to traverse the depths of the attic. Swallowing his fears, or at least attempting to - he was still half-scared that the stairs would fall, or that the door would shut on them and lock them in - he followed Judai into the dark.

He could see next to nothing. All he and Judai had was the torch. In its path, he saw thick dust in the air. Hoping he would not choke on it, he looked around for anything obvious.

The mess of random objects, boxes and bags made him wish he had never clambered up. Boxes upon boxes of what was probably old clothing and decorations were stacked up on one side. A sole window left pale light in one corner, but the rest of the place was so dark that it did them no good. Even if there was light outside, the window had been coated with dust so think that the light was barely visible.

Judai suddenly coughed, and he fought the urge to leap to his side. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he groaned. “I can barely see anything in here… You know where that ice cream maker might be?”

Shou thought about it. He could not remember how long ago his mother had taken it up, or where it was. Half of the boxes and bags were covered in black trash bags, and it was impossible to identify anything without tearing those bags up. Virtually everything was pitch-black, as was, he thought, any hope of finding what they were looking for that same day.

“No,” he murmured. He couldn’t hide his shame as he said it. _I should have known better and thought about things before we came up here…_

“Well, you mind if we just start tearing these bags up?”

Judai didn’t wait for a response, already creeping up to one large box and tearing into the black bag surrounding it. Shou himself had nothing to say. His father would not know if they had torn a few bags, unless he came back to find whatever they had opened covered in dust.

_It’ll be covered in dust anyway,_ he thought. _Might as well._

He followed the trail of Judai’s torch light, making his way closer to him. By the large box Judai was delving into, there were at least three others. Clumsy fingers tore through one bag and picked at the tape covering one of them. Shou wished he had brought along scissors.

“I think this one’s clothes. Feels like them.” Judai complained. “Nothing here, I don’t think.”

Shou nodded, forgetting that Judai could not see him. He had managed to tear into the box, hoping he had not damaged it too badly for his father to complain if he saw it. He could not see what was inside. Carefully, he dipped in his hand. Whatever was inside was hard and smooth, most likely - no, _definitely_ \- a book, and something else was below it, something a little unsteady.

“Judai?” He called out. “Can you come over here? I’m not sure what’s in here.”

Why either of his parents would leave an ice cream maker with some books, he did not know - unless it was a recipe book. Whatever was below it felt like plastic or glass of some kind, with an uneven top. It was not far from what he remembered the ice cream maker being like.

The sound of Judai pushing the box of clothes back hit his ears. With a rustle - there were tattered bags on the floor - Shou heard the gentle thumping of footsteps. The torch almost blinded him as Judai shone it into his eyes by accident.

“Sorry,” he flinched as he realised. “Didn’t mean to do that. What does it feel like?”

“There’s definitely a book in there, and there’s something else in a bag inside it. I really don’t know what’s in there.”

“Let me try.” Judai peered in, pushing the cardboard box flaps aside and letting the torch’s light come in. He rummaged around, tearing up the bag concealing the object inside the box. The book fell aside.

There were a few quiet seconds, save for Judai humming as he thought. His hands traced the object’s surface. “I don’t think this is the ice cream maker you were talking about.”

“What is it?” Shou asked, having become curious about the object himself.

Judai put down the torch, and Shou picked it up. He pulled out the object, careful so as not to let it smash. When light fell upon it, Shou’s heart sank. It was nothing more than an old, fancy but ugly-looking vase; an antique at best and unnecessary luxury at worst.

“…Yeah,” he admitted with a sigh. “That’s not the ice-cream maker.”

“Shame,” Judai did likewise. “Did your parents buy that?”

Shou shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen this thing. Dad probably wouldn’t have.”

Judai gave it a gentle shake, then opened it, peering inside. Shou followed it, letting the torch’s light trail into it. “Nothing in it.”

He put it back, trying to conceal his disappointment. Shou couldn’t help but feel just as bad. The attic was spread out wide in front of them, bathed in darkness. The tiny window was barely enough to paint one corner’s edges a couple of shades lighter. They would have a lot of searching to do before they would find the ice cream maker - unless Shou’s parents had long since thrown it out.

He was about to move on towards some of the other boxes, when he heard Judai messing around in the box again. He turned back. “Wait, what’s the book doing here then?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Are your parents this random? Like, a random vase and a book and,” he rummaged around a little more at the bottom of the box, “some more clothes, I think? Yeah, just a load of clothes.”

“No,” Shou shook his head. It did seem strange, when he thought about it. His father had always been so organised that he himself did not understand how it was possible. Clothes went with clothes, old books with books, and the ugly vase did not seem like something his father would keep in the first place. “I don’t know why they put them together.”

“Mind if I have the torch?”

Shou handed it over. Judai began to hum again. He tore the rest of the black bag’s remains from the box, and gave it a turn. The box was a plain brown one, without so much as a label. Carefully, Judai tilted it to read the bottom, but shook his head quickly. He had found nothing.

“Well, this doesn’t say what’s in the box. I think we should check that book out.”

The box’s bottom hit the floor again. With Judai still holding the torch in his hands, Shou took the lead and took the book out. Judai guided the light back into place.

The book was plain black, a little worn in the corners. An illuminated gold pattern danced down its spine. Turning it around, the number _1987_ shone as the torch came to it, and lit up the cover.

“1987? You think it’s some kind of diary?”

Shou didn’t say anything. The book was neater than he had imagined a seventeen-year-old one to be. He could not help but wonder how long it had spent in the attic.

Gently, he cracked it open, the spine making a small sound unsullied by age. To Shou’s surprise, it had not been eaten by moths. The pages were cold, but relatively untouched.

The book had been written in.

Shou fought the urge to read. His heart began to beat faster. He knew the book had to be shut before curiosity got the better of him. It wasn’t right, he said to himself in his head. _It’s not right for me to be reading this. It’s somebody else’s. There’s writing in it._

“Shou? What’s up?”

Judai peered over, and Shou slammed the book shut on instinct. One finger had slipped between the pages like a mark, and he winced with pain as he cursed himself for it.

“It’s somebody else’s. What if it’s my dad’s? I can’t read this.”

Judai stopped, thinking. After a few seconds, he shrugged. “Doesn’t mean he needs to know about it.”

“Still, it’s not right. It’s someone else’s.”

“Are you sure it’s your dad’s, anyway?”

“…No,” Shou hesitated. “I don’t know whose it is.” He opened the book up again, flicking to the inside of the cover, then to the year’s beginning. “There’s no name on the first page.”

“See? You just read it right now.”

“I - I didn’t!” Shou felt his face flush a little. “There wasn’t a name there, so that wasn’t reading!”

“Special exception,” Judai said, halfway to a smile. “Nobody’s going to know, seriously. And besides, what if it isn’t your dad’s? It’s 1987, who else’s could it have been?”

“I don’t know,” Shou admitted. “I was born in 1987. I don’t know who else it might have been. It might have been my mom.”

There was only one other family member he had left, but Ryou had only been born two years before him. The thought of a two-year-old keeping a diary, with good handwriting, from the glimpse he had got halfway into the book, was more than a little silly to him.

“Only one way to find out.”

There was no way out. Shou let out a sigh, his curiosity and Judai’s own pushing him on. His finger still hurt a little from being slammed down by the pages. Carefully, he pried the book open again, sliding it out, and carefully read the pages he had stumbled upon.

July 21st. _What would I have thought of you had I seen you for the first time as you were in that photograph, had we not been raised as the nearest and dearest of friends?_

_I would have pointed out your hair. It was long - not as long as your mother’s had been, but a little long for a man, next to your stubble-haired father. I would have thought it was strange how it never seemed to fall straight. Even in that photograph, after your father had fought to smooth it down, it resisted, or maybe the wind blew, and so it was captured, there in that image, as the oddest of things._

_I would have said that you were catching up to your father. You were growing - I would know how old you were, but you were growing tall, with not half a head to go until you reached him. You were almost as tall as him, but you had warm cheeks and your mother’s kind eyes. May the gods bless her soul._

_I wish I still had those photographs. I do not remember where I have left them._

_If I could have looked closer, I would have. I would have touched the pale of your skin and moved those hairs aside, so I could see more of you. I would have told you the truth; what I saw. I would have told you that you had dreams in your eyes…_

Shou blinked, re-reading the entry. Had he missed something? There was no addressee on the top of the entry.

The next page, marked August 1st, was blank. He flicked to the next page, only to find it just as empty. The page to the left was blank too. Had the diary been done with already? Blank after blank after blank page followed. Was the rest of it empty? Shou hoped that there would be more.

A few more page turns made his eyes widen with surprise. There was writing for August 4th.

_I was thinking about it again. About us. I fear I am forgetting._

_We were young. Still children. Our families called us adults, but I look back, and know we were not. We could not have been. No, we were all children before the war took it from us._

_We were beautiful children. You were beautiful even after it took everything from you. After we never saw her again. After you never saw your father again. After we healed and made ourselves whole, or as whole as we could make ourselves after everything; after we lost her. You were beautiful until the day that you died, and you will be born again someday as a creature ten times as beautiful._

_I am alone now. Please, I don’t want to forget you._

There was no addressee again.

“Weird.” Judai sounded out Shou’s thoughts, making him jump. He had not realised that Judai had been peering over his shoulder. He pulled away, before sighing. It was nothing important, only a strangely-written diary. What was so… _captivating,_ he thought, about it?

“Who’s the person writing to? What photograph do they mean, anyway?”

Shou shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t say. But it said something about the war. And there’s only one war it could be.”

“Which one? There’s been loads- ”

“Not in Japan. _World War Two._ I think that’s it. That’s the war it’s talking about.”

“Yeah, but who’d be talking about _that_ war? If that book was written in 1987, and the war was like, forty years before that - “

“Exactly. Forty years before. I don’t think it’s my dad’s. He wasn’t alive in the war.”

“So, whose is it?” Judai asked.

Shou swallowed. He was far from certain, but one option was there, in the back of his head.

“It might be my grandfather’s.”

He said the words with such dread that he feared his father would come in any moment and find him, even if he wasn’t in the house. It was that kind of fear - that of doubt and confusion and the terrible thought that secrets were being kept, or had been, and had slipped out in between the pages of the old diary.

He flicked forward more and more, wanting to see how many more entries there were. Some days had been left empty, the yellowing paper making blank pages look strange in their age. Other days had lines and lines of black-ink writing; the further he delved into August, the fewer entries there were, compared to the black walls of script he had glimpsed at the start.

The entries he read were getting shorter and shorter by the day.

August 28th. _I dreamt that I woke up with you next to me again. You are not here any more. I don’t want to forget it. I fear I am forgetting._

August 30th. _I must write. Please help me. I don’t want to forget._

Shou let out a shiver as he approached into September. More and more pages were blank now.

September 12th. _I think I’m forgetting you._

September 17th. _Don’t let me forget._

His hands were beginning to shake. The words seemed to be coming alive. In front of him, the characters were starting to tremble with him. The voice in his head read them out, as if pleading. The author - his grandfather? someone he did not know - was begging, he realised - begging to _someone, or something,_ though to whom, he could not begin to guess. Some of it made him think of a prayer, and other parts had been like letters to someone that had once been loved.

He swallowed at the sight of the imprint of strokes through one page. There was an entry waiting for him on the other side of the page, after a week of nothing but blanks.

He turned it, having lost track of the empty dates he had skipped.

September 25th. _I want to remember. I can’t remember. I’m sorry._

The page after was blank.

September 26th, 1987 was empty, as was the rest of the book, Shou realised as he flicked, quicker and quicker as his heart raced. Pages flashed before him, uncontrollably fast; the numbers flashing through his head and going too fast, too much, going out of control…

He felt pain in his head and leaned forward. Judai reached over, the torch hitting the floor and flickering suddenly. The light came back on, but Shou did not notice. The book had slipped out of his hands and onto the floor.

“Shou? What’s wrong?”

He heard Judai call behind him, and he winced with discomfort. Judai was not to blame; his head had started to hurt as the mess in his head had uncoiled itself. The book was frightening him. Its writer had been crying for help. Shou did not know, and could not guess, what he had been forgetting, but some part of it was hitting hard - harder than he had expected. A shiver tingled down his spine, and he found himself staring down at the ominous 1987 that shone still amongst the dark of the floor.

“It’s… it’s over. It ended.”

Judai reached over again, his arm wrapping around Shou’s shoulder, trying to keep some kind of hold. “I saw. It finished in September. Do you know what happened?”

Shou fought to stop himself trembling. It was not working out. He was losing control of himself; he tried to breathe like Mizuchi had told him to, but it was not quite working. Everything was a mess. Why it had been that date, he did not know, and had no chance of finding out. There was nobody to ask, but whatever it meant, he knew it could not be a good sign.

“…No,” he whispered. “But that date. September 25th, 1987…”

“What happened? Do you know something?”

“I don’t know what happened, but if this book really is my grandfather’s… it’s strange. It doesn’t make sense. Not unless my dad lied,” he said, shaking his head and wishing he was not seeing the truth. It was there, right in front of him - and behind him was a sea of what had to be years of deceit and lies: so many lies he could not begin to traverse through, the lies that came with denying the truth that hid in the diary’s pages.

“What do you mean?”

“My dad told me Grandfather died before I was born. If this is his diary, then he _lied to me.”_

“How did he lie?”

Shou gulped, a shiver-inducing thought stewing away in his mind. There was a bad omen burning his tongue.

“My grandfather was still alive back then. He was still writing on the day I was born. _My birthday._ That’s September 25th, 1987.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for being here so far, and I hope you like it! Drop a comment if you can - kudos are nice, but comments make my life 10 times better.


	8. Ch. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for the chapter: Triple H's cover of "Haiiro no Suiyoubi" (Grey Wednesday), from Mawaru Penguindrum. [The OST/short version of it](http://seruspica.tumblr.com/post/154353724633/thingsmakepeoplehappy) is here. [Translation is here.](https://atashi.wordpress.com/2011/10/10/mawaru-penguindrum-insert-song-haiiro-no-suiyoubi/)

_** chapter eight. ** _

The diary frightened Shou - not for hours, but for days.

What it meant, he did not know, and Judai had no idea either. The longer he stared at the date of the final entry, the stranger he felt - unreal, almost, as if something was wrong with him for even coming into the world on the same day - and the more he wished he could go back, and tell his past self to avoid the attic, like the plague. 

Shou fought with himself for days after. He did not know what to do or to say, or even whether to say to his father that he had found the diary. He let the days pass, and said nothing.

The diary, he decided, would stay his secret. Not even his mother needed to know. She would tell his father, he feared, and he could not predict what would happen.

After the shock of the final entry had left Shou barely stable, Judai had made the choice to give up the search in the attic. It ha made him a little embarrassed, but the feeling was too hard to hide. Judai had offered to guide him out of the attic and down the stairs, holding his hand like a mother holding a child - and he had needed the help, he had to admit, with some shame. Had he been alone, he would have not made it down safely.

He sighed with relief, thinking back. Judai’s hand had been steady and warm, calming even. He had managed to stay safe, and together, they had shut the door to the attic. Whenever he had gone up the stairs since, he had not been able to shop himself looking up to check that it was still as they had left it.

He feared that they would have been found.

It was on the evening of Wednesday, three days after he and Judai had found the book in the attic, that he fell prey to his curiosity.

He had been fighting it for days - it was impossible to stop his hands reaching, he knew, with the little voice of mischief in his head telling him, _what would it change? What will anyone say if you keep on reading it?_ It had made him unable to look his father in the eye at dinner as he reported on business. He had rushed upstairs and flopped on the bed, fearing that he would make himself ill.

_What would he say to me if he found out?_ The thought carried on circling, over and over, until he decided to cave in and peek.

_But he won’t know,_ he decided, swallowing his fear.

He breathed in, keeping focus. He did not need his hands to start shaking now. He had nothing to fear. His father would not come in, he had to remind himself, over and over.

_He’s not coming. You’re going to be all right. You can do it, just like Mizuchi said. You can do it._

Carefully turning around to check one last time that he was alone, he opened the drawers. He was alone in the room; the door was locked. It was quiet. 

He dug in, hands relaxing as they pressed against the comfort of hard black. He had hidden the book amongst his winter sweaters, in the drawer his parents would never look into. His mother he could trust a little more than his father - she had never gone into his items, but his father was ever present, eternally wary.

He could never be sure of him. Shou did not trust his father, and he was sure that his father did not trust him, either.

He shut the drawer as quietly as he could, scared that even the smallest sound of shutting would bring in unwanted attention. Holding it closer to his chest did give him some comfort, even if feeling his heart beat against cold paper and card was nothing like being close to a human.

_Is this how it’s always felt?_ He wondered. _I’ve always been on my own._

Being alone with the book felt lonelier than ever. He had seen him earlier that day, and even walked home with him, but being without Judai with the book in his sight felt strange somehow. Having a friend to reassure him felt a lot better, and he could not deny it.

Quickly sliding the book under his pillow, he sat back on his bed, and quickly texted Judai.

_I’m going to read this thing from the beginning. I’ll message the details._

As soon as the message was sent, he put the phone down but could not hold on long enough for Judai to reply. He checked, over his shoulder, one last time that the door was shut, and that there were no footsteps around, and cracked open the diary, starting at the very beginning.

_January 1st._

_Happy new year. How long has it been, how many years since we last celebrated together? How many times have I written the same thing to you? How many times?_

_I miss you. I am alone now. Hideo and Satsuki went out to the shrine._

Shou stopped, recognising the names. They were his parents. His father could not have written the diary; now, it was certain. Of the people left, whom he and Judai had discussed, it left only one option.

The diary had to have belonged to his grandfather.

Feeling a little elated, he read on.

_Ryou is asleep in the next room. I wonder what kind of person he will become. I will make my prayers for him. Let him be strong and good. Let him guide Amaruya onward, as you and I did, together._

_It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? I love you still. I hope the two of you are happy together. One day, I will see you again - you, and Adelheid, and we will all be together. I swear it._

_I love you still._

Shou stopped and re-read the entry over again. He had never heard of anyone called Adelheid. The name sounded foreign to him, though he did not know where it was from.

The entries had been addressed to someone. Both the summer and September entries he had read on Sunday with Judai in the attic and the first in the book reminded him of conversations. He had heard of some people writing to their diaries, as if they were human themselves, or to some kind of entity, or even a god who would answer prayers written into the diary’s pages. He had heard of a girl writing to her imaginary friend once. This did not feel the same.

This person seemed… _human,_ not quite imaginary. They had no name, at least not on the page. 

_The two of you, it says… so this isn’t just to the diary itself? To someone else, and this…_ Adelheid?

Whoever either Adelheid or the main addressee were, there were no more names nor hints on the page. His grandfather’s beloved was not anyone he had ever been told of. His grandmother, too, had passed long before Shou had been born, but unlike his grandfather, Shou’s father had spoken of her. The woman had died not long before his parents had married. She had been ill, and lost her battle at too young an age.

_Is this written to her? Who is Adelheid, then?_

The confusion was making his head spin. He read on, hoping for clues on the next page.

_January 2nd._

_Today has been quiet. Amaruya will re-open tomorrow. It will be cold. My son’s eyes are cold. Poor Satsuki shivers. Ryou takes to it far better than she ever did. He barely has any of her, and so much of him. I hope he does not grow up to suffer._

_It was always warmer with you. I miss the sweet scent of melonpan. Asakusa’s is nothing like yours. You were always the skilled one of us. I cannot bake without you, not ever again. My hands will not listen. They shake and refuse to keep steady. My son keeps me here, in this room, but I feel like I do not want to leave. There is nothing to leave for._

_It will not be the same, not without you. I miss you._

Shou couldn’t help but sigh, thinking of his brother and where he had gone. His grandfather had not been wrong. Of the two of them, Ryou had always bore more of their father’s looks than Shou ever had, for better or worse.

Adelheid was not there, but Shou felt his mouth water at the mention of melonpan. He had always been weak for sweet bread. Buying it anywhere was always an option, and he could do it sometimes, when he had spare coins in his pocket - but warm melonpan was different. Freshly baked, warm and soft - he had tried and failed at concealing his weakness for sugar at times, but melonpan was not something he could object to.

Asakusa’s giant bread was a treat, something to last him more than a day if he was hungry. Still, it was rare that he would ever get it for himself. He rarely went to Asakusa. The crowds were unpleasant. Tourists would swarm it. He always had work, or no reason to head over there when he was free.

The thought that his grandfather had baked melonpan warmed his heart a little, in a way that he could not quite process. He did not know the man. He had never known him, nor had he ever met him. There had not been one photograph of him in the house, and the way his father scowled at the mention of him made shiver.

As he read, on past January 3rd and into February, through the evening, he lost track of time. Pages were turned, and he could not stop himself delving deeper. Between turning a few more pages of entries and updating Judai on what he was finding, stopping was an impossible challenge. It had been a miracle, Shou thought as he went, page by page, on.

Never in detail had his father said much about the man, and Shou had learned nothing about him, save for his name. One diary, branded with only one year of his life, had given him more knowledge the rest of the seventeen years behind him.

“Satoru,” he whispered, stopping at March. He hoped that nobody heard through thin walls. “Marufuji Satoru. Grandfather. _Grandpa._ ”

He had heard the name once, through a closed door. His father had been in a rage once, years ago, and let slip the name with a swear. It had been brought up in a document sent to him - why, Shou had not known, and neither had his father.

Shou had asked Ryou about him that evening. Ryou had still lived with them back then. In the space of their room, his brother had shaken his head, claiming he had not known the man either. Neither of them had been happy about asking their father, and in the end, neither had.

_What about now?_ Shou questioned, thinking a little further and shivering. One look from the man was enough to chill bones. 

Hearing that he had been in the attic and messed up several boxes in search of something as dumb as an ice cream maker would not be a good thing, he knew. He dreaded the consequences. Even imagining them made him wince on the inside. _What would he say?_

He had debated it for a long time, lying in bed at night and dazing during class. Telling the truth sounded too risky. He did not want to risk angering his father, or losing possession of the book.

He slept later than normal that evening. He had gotten so intensely caught in the book that he forgot to hide it away in the drawer. It spent the night under his pillow, with only a small piece of paper to mark that he had ended in April. It was only in the morning that he hid it again.

The school day after was tougher than ever. All day, he struggled to focus on texts and equations, thinking back to the diary, over and over again. More sniggers from around the classroom echoed around as he was called on multiple times, having spaced out each time. He did not mind - not this time. He did not care at all that day, only just scraping by.

Another walk home with Judai, not discussing the diary this time, was followed by hours of work. A quieter day meant he had more time to think, staring down into his tea and picking out notes in the fragrance. White tea was not something he chose to drink often, but the faint hint of rose was different from what he was used to, and variety was what he needed. He could not drink the same thing every day. He did not want to fall asleep on the job, and the tea was free to him.

Dinner was quiet, more so than his shift. His father was not willing to talk. Shou’s mother did not try to make conversation, either - from her expression, it was clear that she had not had the best day at work. Leaving the room had felt like a sigh of relief.

Shou made his way up to his room in a rush, his curiosity getting the better of him and demanding he take the diary out. Even the sight of it comforted him. It was his secret, his special mystery - something his father did not know about, only for him and for his eyes and hands to see and feel. Only Judai knew of it. They had talked about it together. Shou himself had read it alone. 

Fingers flicked past blank pages and filled ones. His eyes picked up on small scribbles in corners and the fading of old pens. Sometimes, the pen had pressed hard enough for Shou to feel bumps and lines on the other side of the page. The scent of the years, the age in the pages - all of it was a strange kind of comfort.

He had begun to notice patterns in writing. All of the entries were dedicated to someone, like letters written but left unsent. There was no name to the dedicated, and if there was, it was not in the book. The only names he could find were those of his parents, and what was probably a few customers.

Then, _Adelheid_. Who was Adelheid?

He had not seen the name since the first entry.

The diary was dotted over and over with talk of a war long ago. Shou had thought of the Second World War, but he could not be sure. It could have been a war of a different kind - but war was a thing of the past all the same. His family had always had roots in Japan, and his father was not old enough to have seen one.

_Was Adelheid someone from this war? Or after it, when the Americans came?_

Over and over, pages were turned. Words were checked, over and over. Dates were remembered and forgotten, then remembered again. The more he read, minute by minute and hour by hour, the harder it was to resist. Stopping was impossible, even as he grew tired. Each page would only lead to another, and another again. By the time Shou had finished, coming back to September on Thursday evening, he wished that he did not have to stop. He wanted more of it. The book had enthralled him.

The next day - Friday, two days since picking it up for the first time, he failed to resist it again. He had gone back to the drawer, pulling the diary out and cracking it open with care. He had already read it through once from the start that same week, from January to September, when the book had come to a premature end.

He found himself staring at the last written page again then; he was stuck, having promised himself one last look at September 25th and the ominous blank of the next page; the page that signified his own birth, and the emptiness after.

_Why did he stop writing?_

The question had confounded him, over and over. His birthday and the date of the last diary entry were one and the same. Why would the diary have ended? Had his grandfather been too stressed out to write with another child in the house? Had he pushed the book aside in favour of something else? Had something happened in the family that meant he could no longer write?

If he had abandoned the diary, he wanted to know why. At the same time, some things were not making sense.

_Dad told me he died before I came into existence,_ Shou thought. Why had his father told him the lie about his grandfather’s death, when the diary made it impossible? Why had his death always been tiptoed around, as had been everything else about him - about _Marufuji Satoru,_ and all that he stood for, Amaruya excepted?

_He didn’t die before I was born. Dad lied. The proof I have is this diary. He wrote in it on the day I was born. He couldn’t have been dead by then. But he must have left us, or he stopped writing, and died when I was too young to remember. When both of us were too young…_

_Not even Ryou remembers him - not even the year he died._

He thought of his brother.

Ryou was only two years his senior, but had always towered above, physically and mentally, and in every other way he could think of. He had charmed girls without the intentions, and excelled in his classes. Effort itself had been effortless. Shou could not help but envy what his brother had been. When his father had begun to train Ryou in the ways of tea, Shou had peered on, from behind corners, and followed the smells to name some of the blends and herbs his nose had picked out. He had been taught only the basics, and his father was not going to teach him the rest. It hurt to think of how much he had wanted to learn.

Ryou would inherit the place. His father has said it; that made it a fact.

From the day of his birth, it had been obvious, that the firstborn and eldest son of Amaruya’s master would come to inherit the business himself. From a father down to his son; it was the way Amaruya had been for a long time, as Shou had been told by his father, over and over. Ryou had been raised with that legacy mapped out for him, straight and true. His path had always been clear.

Shou had never had the same guidance. There were few expectations for him. From the end of elementary school, Ryou was taught the names of each and every one of Amaruya’s tea blends; their exact quantities, what flavours worked well. He had been taught what would help to relax muscles and to soothe hurting stomachs, what would help the weary wake up and give relief in times of trouble. He had been taught how to be polite and professional as part of the business. Certain skills were part of the job, and what Ryou had been taught, Shou simply had no need for.

There was never a point, Shou remembered. _But Dad ended up teaching me anyway. He didn’t want to, not really._

He could still remember the night of the first argument, after dinner; he had heard a plate smash. He had crept downstairs and listened.

Ryou refused his own legacy.

The bitter looks and the fights - some of them loud, a few ending in cuts and bruises on the sides of both father and son - continued for weeks. Shou remembered the sudden distance between his mother and father, and how he had crept away, into his room, desperate for distance and wishing he did not have to hear the sounds of yelling and protest downstairs.

He had wept, even when his father had told him that he was too old to cry like a child. Ryou had bled once. Shou had offered his help, but Ryou rejected it.

The conflict ended. Their father gave in. Ryou took on cram school and part-time work - away from Amaruya, as far away as he could, at the cost of losing sleep and being too tired most days to speak. For months, Shou became accustomed to him stumbling home, mentally beaten and eyes falling shut, barely strong enough to stand up from the strain of a thousand different things on his shoulders - his work, his money, his future, and the rest of his troubles. Shou tried to ask him about it, but there were no details.

Ryou was different. Shou had been forced to change.

It had only been a month since his second year of senior high started, and only weeks after Shou had decided to join the broadcasting club, that his father told him to leave it.

He had not wanted to. He had barely had time to make friends. Giving them his resignation letter hurt, so badly it almost made him cry once he fell onto his bed later that evening. He had glimpsed their faces in crowds from time to time since. They never looked back, and when he had tried to make small talk once, most of it had been pushed away, lost in the depths of the crowd. 

Time had passed. He had mostly forgotten their names.

His afternoons became consumed by rituals, by learning tea blends and mixing them in the right quantities. He had been taught by the stick, to look at customers in the eye and to smile, even when he was on the verge of collapse. The customers did not need to know. His father would watch him, always vigilant and ever present, refusing to leave him alone for even minutes at the start.

Over time, he had stopped watching.

Shou had gained his own private space, within the tea shop. Amaruya became more than just a home. He would try to ignore his brother’s dark stares, but smile nonetheless; he would offer him tea, as usual, and ask what had happened to him day by day, trying to not care if his brother did not respond. It was better than doing nothing at all, he knew. It was more human, more of what he wanted to do, and not something his father had drilled into him.

When Ryou had packed his bags for university in Kyoto - far enough away - he left with his mother’s approval and his father’s reluctance, but with money enough to let himself study and live, and all signs that he would ever inherit Amaruya went with him.

Those signs were gone. They had been torn to pieces as Ryou left for Kyoto, in the dust of a train. Shou had remained. He was his father’s last hope.

Ryou’s returns to Tokyo were far from frequent. When they did happen, he did not stay at Amaruya. 

The situation confused him. Whether he hated his father or not was one thing, and the tea shop itself was another. Even if his father would stare at him like a wretch, he loved what he had been given. Amaruya was his salvation. He loved it for its scents and the customers it brought in. Sometimes, it was difficult to keep a smile on his face, but new faces and old, children and adults, were always bright and refreshing to see, and they brought in their own scents. He would advise them on tea, and at the same time, pick apart where they had been, and what lay beyond their expressions.

The evenings he spent reporting on business to his father were dreadful at times. People, and all the fond memories, were what kept him going. He loved Amaruya - he could not lie about it by saying he hated the place. He had always loved tea. People made happier by the tea that he sold brought smiles to his face.

All that had stood in the way was his father.

Even the diary, and his grandfather’s story, were locked behind a series of mysteries that his family guarded, and that his mother was unwilling to reveal. His father, he knew, was the only hope.

_What if I try? Would it not hurt to…?_

He did not want to be shouted at, or to be outright ignored. There were times when his father outright refused to comment, and it was then that Shou would leave the room, knowing he had done something stupid by even attempting to speak. Those were the worst kind of nights. He dreaded being alone, knowing that he had messed up.

_But I always mess up…_

It was painful to think about it. He did not want to struggle again.

_What would Mizuchi tell me to do? What about Mom? She can’t tell me anything, but if she could tell me to speak up…_

It would be worth it to try.

This time, Shou decided, he had to give it a try. He had information this time, and it was too late to change things back. He had found his grandfather’s diary and read through the whole of it. He could not forget what he had seen, not by force or by chance. He could demand that his father told him the truth.

He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

_I_ will _do it. I’ll have to. I will. I’ll ask him about Grandfather._

Trying hard to avoid making much noise, he stood up off the bed and hid the book in the drawer, tucking it behind the same sweaters. It would be safe there, he hoped, at least long enough for him to go downstairs and ask his father for the details he needed to fill in what he was missing. Even if the book was to be taken from him, he would remember the dates. He would remember the diary ending on September 25th, 1987.

He breathed. He let his feet take him onward, towards his father’s bedroom, where he had heard footsteps. His mother was in the kitchen, clearing up the downstairs. He could hear the tap running and a faint hum to what he was sure was one of her songs through her headphones.

His father was there, in the bedroom - he knew it, and he struggled to stay stable as he came closer and closer.

_Closer to doom more than anything,_ he thought, but prayed otherwise.

He had to do it. It was time to bottle up his courage. He took a breath in, closing his eyes like Mizuchi had told him to do, and reached to knock on the door. Shutting his eyes and hoping for a response was a reflex. More than anything, he hoped that he would be listened to. He did not want rejection, or the door shut in his face.

He did not want to be left without anything, alone in the dark.

The sound of the door opening made him jump. “Dad?” He asked, hoping he was right.

His father stood still in the doorway. In his hands was his usual teacup, with the piece missing as ever. Hearing him, he turned around. “Hm?”

“There’s… something I wanted to ask.”

“About what?” He spoke with a sigh, clearly tired and most likely not willing to talk. Shou knew he could not back down. His father was always like this. He could not be discouraged now. It was time to act, once and for all.

Finally, he would get some kind of answer.

Shou swallowed, hoping he would not shoo him away. “…About Grandfather.”

His father paused, eyes growing wide for a split second. Before anything else could be said, he had gone back to his usual moody expression. “What is it?”

It had come out like a _spit_ ; as if Shou had forced him into something unpleasant. There had been no force in the action, however - he had nothing to stop him, he repeated inside his head.

“What was he like? I mean, I don’t remember.”

_He could walk away now, but he’s still standing here. Maybe he’ll listen._ Shou’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of him finally getting an answer. 

Another sigh, deeper than the last, was the first thing he heard. Then, there was silence.

“He died before you were born.”

“I… I know.” Shou said back, trying hard to stay strong. His father’s dry monotone was beginning to make him uneasy. Beyond the cold looks, he knew, could be a savage of a man, one strong enough and willing enough to have left marks on Ryou after the worst of their arguments. “I was just wondering. No-one ever talks about him. I mean… how did he die?”

“He had a heart attack.”

“But what kind of person was he?”

His father shook his head. “Not a good kind.”

“Huh?”

“He ran this place, and that’s about it. He was married to your grandmother,” he said, turning away. Shou couldn’t let him slip out of his grasp. It had not been enough…

He interrupted, not willing to let him leave. “What about _her?”_

“She died too young for her age. If she had not died, she would have left him. Any woman with common sense in her brains would have. Shame there are few women like that.”

“Why?” Shou demanded, voice faltering into more of a whimper. He tried to resist the temptation to shout; he could feel the fear rising inside of him, growing harder to hold back by the minute. He could not let it choke him again. “Was Grandfather a bad person?”

“No.”

“But you said he wasn’t a good kind - “

“It _doesn’t matter_ what kind of person he was. Why are you asking me this?” His father snapped. Shou flinched, taking a step back by instinct.

_No, he thought - I have to stay strong. I have to get my answers from you…_

“Because I… I was just… wondering.”

“Wondering. You were _wondering_ …” The older man spat, shaking his head. He sighed, voice turning lower as he continued. “You should know that it’s no good wasting time wondering about pointless things. The past is no good. Some things do not need to be dug up.”

Shou was about to intervene, but his father did not allow him. He was dismissed with the flick of a large, calloused palm.

“Your grandfather kept Amaruya running. There is not much more to him than that.”

“But…“ Shou tried to say. 

“Shou, please stop this. This is getting stupid,” his father demanded. Even if he did not speak loudly, it was enough. Shou knew he was weak and small and useless again in his gaze.

“…I believe you have school work to be getting on with.”

“Yes,” He nodded. His words had come out as barely more than a whimper.

He sighed, shoulders flopping. There was nothing more to say. He had no choice. He did not feel like fighting his father. He was not Ryou - he was weaker, far weaker, and would never be anything like the brother to whom Amaruya should have belonged to.

As he trudged upstairs, he struggled to keep hold of himself. He felt like death.

_History is repeating itself. It’s just like the past._

Even as he sank into the sheets of his bed, he could not get Kagemaru’s words out of his head. His father’s had joined them too, and they echoed. The memory of a hand burning his wrist stung, through and through, to the point of that wrist starting to ache again.

He did not want to speak to his mother. Judai probably would not understand, even if he had seen the diary. The past repeating itself was Kagemaru’s thing. What it had to do with Shou, and the diary, if anything at all, he did not know. It was impossible to tell without help, and he had nothing of the sort. The doubt was all his, and not something he could not solve with anyone else.

What Mizuchi knew of Kagemaru’s past, he was not certain. Two years working for the House was unlikely to be enough - those who had been there far longer had still barely squeezed out a few words from the man. Kagemaru refused to say anything. No doors were open - not for him, never for him. He was just Shou, the perpetual loner and black sheep of his family, the _substitute_ heir to the family business, and otherwise completely and utterly useless.

_But what if they’re connected somehow? What does Kagemaru know about me? What if it all really is?_

That was the thought that circled around in his head, and it would not cease all evening.

Alone, in his room, all that he had was the pillow, the white of the ceiling, and the secret, probably final remains of his grandfather’s memories: the diary bearing the year 1987 in gold on its cover, its last entry bearing the date of the very day he was born.

**_end of act one_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, Act I is over! Don’t fret too much, though - this is far from the end, and there is more to come. Between acts, we have interludes, and next week, we raise the curtain for the first one…
> 
> So: melonpan, if you have not yet stumbled upon it, is a Japanese sweet bread. It’s often bought in bakeries and convenience stores there, and it’s basically sweet bread topped with cookie dough. Sounds odd? To a fair few Western folk, maybe - but it’s honestly one of my favourite things. There are recipes for it online if you want to sample it and don’t happen to live near a Japanese bakery. On that note, the bakery Shou mentions in Asakusa is, in fact, a real one - it’s called Kagetsudo and it has indeed gained a reputation for giant melonpan. Look it up if you like.
> 
> Thank you, and please leave a comment on the way out if you’d like to see more updates. Much love!


	9. Interlude I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music: choose [one](http://seruspica.tumblr.com/post/154438742148) or [the other.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dnpiUxounrw) I couldn't decide. Both work.

**_ interlude i - the funeral pyre _ **

Hideo could not sleep.

For hours - so said the clock’s piercing-red numbers - he had been tossing and turning. First, he had been feeling too cold, then for a moment, too hot, and for the past hour, his feet had felt frozen while the rest of him sweated. His hands could not stay still. In the sharp triangle of cutting light that streamed through the curtains, his fingers were trembling.

Why were they trembling?

He had tried to find the answers within himself, as he turned to his stomach and then to his side, shifting to the other side of the bed and away from the warmth of his sleeping wife. The answer was nowhere.

The whole room was dark. He had thought of getting up and putting the light on, but he was not alone. He did not want to disturb her. She could be calm, and mostly she was, but he had heard it said, over and over, that _hell hath no fury like a woman scorned;_ and he feared waking her, just as he feared the trembling in his own hands. It would not cease.

_Dear God,_ he thought. _What’s going on?_

He shivered. He could not control himself, or the rest of the trembling.

He was scared; he knew it. Deep in the pit of his stomach, something was coiling; twisting and turning, rising and falling and staying. The more he lay there, useless and alone, the more the feeling seemed to grow. It was feeding off his very core. The thoughts circling around in his mind, like starved vultures, as he tried to make sense of his feelings, were only growing and growing.

_I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m not alone. I never was._

His mouth was growing dry, his hands less and less steady as they thrummed against the mattress. The woman in the same bed seemed to grow more and more distant. He felt his vision twist and blur. His eyes squeezed shut by instinct, hiding from what he knew would be impending pain in his head.

_Please. I’m sorry. I know. I know you’re here. I know I was never alone._

The voice in his head had been whispering. He had tried to ignore it for weeks; those weeks had turned into years and those years into decades. It had not stopped speaking. He had tried to fight back. Nobody he knew could have been allowed to see that fight - he did not allow it, would not allow it to be seen. He was not a weak man. Silence would be enough. It was necessary, just to keep the rest of them safe, and to keep his business - the _family_ business, he reminded himself with a shudder - alive, to make sure his son, either one of his children, would keep it going long after he died.

_But you’re here. You’re still watching, aren’t you? This family lives, and you never died. You didn’t. You didn’t leave this place. No. You’re still here._

He turned his head. Shadows seemed to dance on the walls. Triangles of light filtered in through gaps in between the curtains. The moonlight was a flash that cut the bed into two _._

_You’re still here, aren’t you? You’re coming._

In the corner of his eye, the darkness was moving. The shadows were alive. They were there as reminders. Night by night, they would come to remind him that he was not safe, and nobody was safe, he knew, because the dead were alive, and the dead were watching his every move.

_You’re coming back to me. You’re already here._

Hideo heard the bed creak as he forced himself up. He stood, and looked back. She was still sleeping on.

Barefoot, he walked through the darkness. Pushing the door open, taking care to not make a sound, he crept away, eyes darting to every single corner with fear; the fear that empty eyes were somehow about to make contact with his own.

He had awoken one night with the feeling of a cold hand on his own. It had not belonged to his wife. Her body, asleep and out of reach, was far from that warmth. He had seen nothing; and she, too, when his fear woken her up, had seen nothing in the room. They had been alone. It had been no more than a dream.

It was not a dream. He knew it was not.

_You’re here. You are. You never left this place. You never left us, did you?_

_I saw you burn._

He had dreamt of the funeral too many times now. The photograph from that day had been stark: dark suits framed against flowers in too-bright, too-garish colours. He had worn black, and so had his wife, and he had held the hand of his eldest son. In his wife’s arms had been a weak, helpless bundle, only four days old.

Hours later came the ominous puffing of crematorium smoke.

_I saw you burn, but you didn’t die. You saw the smoke; the smoke of your own ashes. You never died. You watched it, too; and I know, because you were right beside me._

_You’ve always been here._

His feet padded slowly, carefully; he struggled to see in the dark. His hands felt around for the door. It was not far from the bedroom. He thanked fortune for moving down what he needed before. It was much closer now. He could get them right now, take a quick look and know the truth, and then he would sleep like a babe. He would be at peace.

The door of the closet creaked as he eased it open, eyes squeezing shut with the hope that nobody would hear it. Then, there was silence. He let himself breathe.

The box was still there. This was his box - only his. Not even his wife was allowed to look into it.

He had covered the thing in black bags, hoping that it would not be noticed. They had done their job. The mess was untouched, just as he had left it. He had feared it being found in the weeks since he had brought it down from the attic, a few months ago when the voices had grown louder, inside and outside. It was untouched.

Here, he had it close enough so he could have it for himself to watch over alone. He had kept it there for a while, hidden away in the closet, where nobody could, or would touch it. The attic had been too far away for his liking. Some random remains had been left there, amongst the trash, and he shook his head, thinking about them; _I need to find those again,_ he reminded himself _, and to remove them. For my own safety. For all of our sanities. This is for all of us._

_…I know you’re out there._

The voices had been calling, louder and louder, for weeks. He had needed the box closer to reach, to just be in his possession. He needed to hold it, and to peer into it, and to control it, even if that would not be enough to hush out the pain in his head and behind his aching eyes in the night.

Carefully, he reached for it and pulled it out. He winced as the covering rustled under his fingers, slipping slightly. It was heavier than he remembered.

_You never died. You’re still here. But I have your memories. Every single one you wrote down. Every last thing._

One hand tore through the bag. There were more beneath the top layer. He tore through them, again and again, until they split open, and he reached out, fingertips meeting paper and card and the feeling of it making him shudder.

He stood up to turn on the light in the closet. _Click._ There it was.

His hands drew out one of the books, the scent of old pages hitting him like a wave. His hands were shaking still, as he opened it up, hearing the spine make a cracking noise with its age. Fingers flicked through the pages.

_4th October. 2nd October. 26th September. 23rd, 22nd, 21st._ The numbers flashed before him, as did the words. _Today was a quiet day. Did not go outside. Heard a little girl’s voice in Amaruya again. Some child with her parents. Heard her laugh, and she laughs just like Adelheid did…_

He shook his head, wishing he could throw the book aside.

_But no,_ he thought, remembering. _You’re still watching. You can still see me._

His hands shook as he put the book down, the gold on its cover glinting in the light for a second, the numbers shining like magic on an otherwise black cover. Showa year 56; _1981._ Years had passed. It was all in the past, and he tried to make himself believe again. It was all in the past, just like the one who had written those words inside the book and filled it with thoughts and memories, and even given the pages that distinctive scent, of age, blood and sweat, and perhaps the odd splashes of tea.

It was all in the past. Hideo felt his stomach turn at the thought.

_All of you - all of you. You never left. You’re still here. Part of you is still here. Not just in these books, but in everything. You linger behind me whenever I go to open the tea shop each morning. You’re still outside, sweeping up leaves with the wind. You’re still there, lurking behind -_

_No,_ he shook his head, holding back bitter tears. _You’re still alive. You didn’t die. You’re still here._

_You’re still here!_

He could not understand it. He never had. The thoughts all rushed in. Before he could stop himself, his hands were already scrambling at the bags. The book fell back in, carelessly. He wanted to scream, but couldn’t - he was not alone in the house, he was far from alone, because there were ghosts in his eyes and along every corridor, and the man that was dead was alive, still alive, living on in another body, in the very proof that Marufuji Satoru had never truly died, because his state of death had not lasted long enough to be _normal…_

_The dead are alive in this place. They’re coming, they’re coming -_

He wanted to scream. His head fell into his hands, fingers pulling at the roots of his hair. Teeth gritted, eyes shutting with pain -

_I can’t take this, I can’t!_

Hideo’s chest heaved. He gasped out loud with the fear. His hands and arms, no longer obeying, grabbed the box. The black bags fell to the floor. It did not matter. He took the box and cradled it close to his chest, not out of love but out of a wild, desperate need, and made his way down the stairs. His feet were unsteady, the box in his arms blocking half of his field of view, already muted out by the dark of the night.

It wasn’t enough.

He had to do it; he had to, _he had to!_

Breaths hitched in his throat. The urge to tear at it, scratch it, leave it bloody and torn into shreds, to die in an instant, consumed him. His hands were growing more damp with sweat as he made his way down, not caring if anyone heard. The box was put down for an instant. Grabbing the lighter off the shelf, body so used to it that he needed no light, he slung on his coat. The cold was far from pleasant. He didn’t care, not any more.

His hands closed around the cold metal in his pocket, the feeling of the keys almost electrifying, threatening to make him lose balance. It didn’t matter that he was barefoot, or that he was in only a coat and his underwear; it didn’t matter, because it was night and the others were asleep, and this was his chance to free himself of his prison, of the voices calling at him to free himself of everything else. His chest hurt; he was choking, almost, but it didn’t matter. He was about to taste liberation, smell it, take it into his lungs, even if the feeling was so good that he would die himself that night.

He did not want to die tonight, even if he was no stranger to the thought. Everyone else was a stranger to him; nobody could ever love him, not even his wife, not if they knew what he did - what he had been seeing, the truth that only he had been chosen to know.

He leaned up against the wall, propping the box up as his free hand fumbled around with the lock. The door out was pushed open, and the cold of the night hit him like a bullet.

He shivered. He would be free. He would _make himself_ free.

He winced as his feet met the concrete, but spat it aside. It didn’t matter. The box almost fell from his arms. He picked up what had fallen and crept out, into the darkness.

The thought of being seen filled him with horror, but at the same time, he had no time to worry. His head was already heavy. His feet were frozen and damp from the puddles left from the evening rain. Outside, there was nothing more than a streetlight across the road, and not a single sound from the street; on the main roads of Ueno beyond the depths of Yanaka, he knew there were cars, but he was not there, and just for a while, the place was all his. He was alone with the box in the dark, and that box was the weight of all sin.

He snuck out of the light, towards the side of the building. He looked up. The window on the upper floor was shut. It was the bathroom window; his own bedroom, his wife’s study, his son’s room, the other room - the rest were in the other direction. He would be safe. The box fell to the ground. Nobody heard it.

Nobody would be coming here, not at night. He was alone.

His hands shook still. He had left the door just ajar; he did not want to go back and shut it. There was no point. The rush storming through him, coating his fingers with sweat, made him gasp. He had little time.

One unsteady hand reached for the book he had flicked through. Showa 61, said the first page on the inside. _1986_ , said the cover, the numbers picked out in gold. Some American present, most likely. No other book was the same, but no two books ever had the same covers. Some were larger, some smaller, their pages flimsy paper turned brown with age, others well-bound in false leather. Blues, blacks and reds - all of them he had seen, and the one he held in his hand was no exception. Its cover matched the ebony of the night.

Hideo struggled to breathe. One hand reached for _1986,_ Showa year 61. The other fumbled with the lighter.

The first lick of flame hit the corner. Orange illuminated the black.

His heart beat like a drum, like a man running. His gasps sounded out, hoarse and uneasy. The flames ran along the book’s pages, before spreading up. They eased their way up the cover, and Hideo threw it to the ground, feeling the heat slick up his damp hands.

It was not enough. It was too slow; so slow it filled him with ache. He was being watched. He knew it. _You never died and you never left; you’re still here, in these pages, in this house, in everything and everywhere, you’re in the eyes of my -_

_Damn you, damn you, leave me, leave this place, burn!_

He turned around and ran back into the house, ignoring the wet footprints left behind on the floor and the digging in of the floor mat into bare skin. There was a cupboard. He pushed apart the shoes at the entrance, throwing a couple aside, and opened its latch. It was there.

There was a plastic bottle; bright white, its lid danger-red. He gave it a shake. Fluid sloshed. He had a chance. It was time; it was time - _it_ is _time, this is goodbye to you!_

He took it, his arm slamming the little door by accident. The sound made him wince. What if he had been heard?

_No,_ he thought. _It’s too late now. Nobody can stop me. Goodbye!_

He rushed straight back out, remembering the book he had left. He had been right. It was burning, but burning far too slowly. The fire was small, the ground that little bit damp.

With a deep breath, knowing that this would decide it, he took a step back and unscrewed the lid from the bottle. The fluid poured on.

The fire leapt, with a roar, into life. It consumed the pages entirely, only black charred remains standing out still amongst the vivid tongues of wild flame.

He put the bottle - now empty - aside, his hands still unsteady. If it fell over, he didn’t hear it. His hands were already working. A second book came from the box; one with no number at first glance. Its year was inside. It didn’t matter, not any more. It fell down on top of the first with a thump, and the fire began to consume it.

_Yes. That’s it now. It’s over. You’re dead._

“You hear now?” Hideo’s voice rang out, uncaring who heard. He was alone, and would always be, deep inside. “You see? You’re _dead._  I killed you. You’ve been dead all of these years…”

One by one, books fell to the ground, joining one another in flames. 1982 met 1979 met 1966, and all met their fate in the fire. Orange tongues flashed in his eyes as more and more crumbled to ash. Yellowing pages turned black amongst amber. Flashes danced in Hideo’s eyes as more and more pages were swallowed. The books seemed to go on forever, taking time to catch fire, and then burning only slowly.

He splashed the last remaining drops of the fluid. Every drop was a second closer to the end.

Hideo stood there, transfixed. His arms curled up together, the sleeves of his coat barely able to stave off the cold alone. His feet were stone cold and unfeeling. His hair was a mess. He still couldn’t focus. His head ached, like a drum was beating into his skull, and the pain only grew when he tried to look down.

The fire rose up. His eyes reflected the flames, flashing and savaging, page by page, word by word, wretched thoughts and memories. The past was finished; finally done with.

_You’re dead. You died. I’ve killed you, here in these flames. You died, I picked out your bones from the ashes. I saw it. I felt it. I inhaled that wretched smoke._

The books crackled away, lost to heat and destruction. He had beaten fate. It lay on the ground, dead and dying, the legacy of decades lost and gone, never to haunt him or his family ever again.

_Please, tell me I’m happy. You’re dead. You’re dead now, aren’t you?_

_…Please, tell me you’re dead._

He had run out of words. There was water in the kitchen, but there would be no going back. In the back of his head was a faint whisper; one he could barely hear, but one that was there, all the same. The same voice he had been trying to fight was echoing still in his ears.

 _You’re dead. I know that you died,_ he insisted. The voice was not silenced.

There was no going back. All he could do was watch on.

As Hideo stood there, alone, barefoot and barely dressed, outside his home in the dead of night with memories turning to ash right before him, he felt tears streak down his flushed cheeks and lose themselves in the mess of his stubble.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong
> 
> "Wherever they burn books, in the end, they will also burn human beings." - Heinrich Heine (writer)
> 
> Next week: Part 2 begins. Please leave a review on your way out!


	10. Ch. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Music.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvdzOT3DKl0) This one is not so much for this chapter, but rather, this act, and its themes. This one means a lot.

* * *

**act ii. a history of fire  
** _ (even if you believe in them, you cannot call cycles of history identical. there may be similarities, but details always vary) _

* * *

**_ chapter nine. _ **  
****

When Saturday morning dawned and his alarm for work rang, Shou woke up with the diary still in his hands. To his relief, it was not damaged.

He had not slept well again.

Sighing as he got dressed, he could not stop thinking of how bad the nights had become. He had not been sleeping as much as before the year had begun. Whether it was Judai texting him late into the night, or troubles like the night before’s mess with the diary, he had felt weaker and weaker.

Some nights had still been pleasant, and he was thankful for them.

_If I find out more about whatever Kagemaru said about the past… will I be able to sleep better then? Will I stop worrying? Will Judai and I be able to stay friends for as long as we like?_

The thoughts plagued him, swarming like flies. No matter how much water he splashed himself with in the bathroom that morning, his mind would not snap out of the trance.

He was thankful that he had prepared the usual tea for delivery on Friday after shutting the shop. The haze of that morning made it too difficult for him to tell the packets apart by anything other than label. Mizuchi’s chamomile - with or without raspberry this time, he could not remember - was in a small, brown bag of its own, adorned with a sticker to separate it from any of the others.

As soon as he came out of the house, the smell of smoke hit hard.

It clung to the path outside Amaruya, and most likely to the rest of the street. His father was out, about to open the shop as usual, this time with a broom in hand and a grim look on his face. He was probably more tired than Shou himself, and he did not want to ask why. The memories of fear from the last night were still fresh in his head.

_“Fucking delinquent kids…”_

His father cursed, loud enough to make him flinch. He turned around. His father spat down at what looked like a darker smear on the ground. When he saw Shou looking back, his scowl only deepened.

“See that? Thugs. Kids set something on fire outside. Damn it. The _bastards.”_

He continued to sigh, brushing more furiously. Shou hoped it would come out. If not, his father would most likely make him try to clear it himself. He winced at the thought. Cleaning had never been his forte, and he wanted to sleep tonight.

He did not say anything back. He had been told off for time-wasting in the past, and was not looking forward to another unnecessary warning. His father being in a bad mood was a disaster waiting to happen - and the House of Flowers was waiting, with far better company and no pointless cleaning to do. Looking back was a waste of time. He could only go forward.

Shou went on alone. Judai had work again this weekend. He had only decided to take the shift a few days prior, as soon as he had seen that Misawa and Manjoume had been grouped together on the same shift. Half of Shou had wanted to laugh at their bad luck, or Eri’s meddling - whichever it had been, it was an awful coincidence - and the other half had been solemnly worried. Judai being there, even if it meant him not coming with him to the House, would be for the best.

Judai was single-handedly saving Miracle Fusion, and he had his own job to do. His job was delivering tea leaves, while Judai served coffee. It was funny, he thought, just how opposite to one another they were. Where he was quiet, Judai was loud; he preferred small events while Judai oozed confidence in a crowd.

Some part of him was a little jealous of Judai. Shou could only dream of speaking out loud without hesitating, or wanting to sink into the ground.

The morning was pleasant, a little chilly but otherwise ordinary weather for May. The trees were still dusted with petals. Pollen was coming back for the summer. His nose was beginning to itch with early hay fever, and he reminded himself to start taking tablets. The closer it got to summer, the worse it would get, even in the tree-lined streets that surrounded Yanaka.

The House of Flowers was in bloom once again. There were fewer petals strewn on the ground this time, but the flowerbeds were still bright, brighter even. Yellow daffodils were still vivid by the fence, amongst purple violets and orange blooms whose names he could not remember.

Mizuchi answered the intercom as she did every Saturday. Her voice was sweet comfort to Shou, nothing like the cold cursing he had heard come from his father as he swept with such anger. She welcomed him into the House with her usual smile, and following her through the corridor, having kicked his shoes off, he let himself sigh with relief when he put down the box of tea in her office.

He was exhausted. Carrying the box without stopping was nothing out of the ordinary, but he had not rested much, too. He wanted to sleep. As soon as Mizuchi had turned away, he rubbed his eyes fervently. She did not need to see that he was not at his best. 

_That isn’t appropriate_ , his father’s voice in his head repeated again.

“…Are you all right?”

He did not expect Mizuchi to turn around so quickly. She had caught him mid-yawn. It was the most awkward situation - worse than just rubbing his eyes, and it made him jump with surprise when he realised. In silent panic, he begged that she would not complain.

“Yes. Yes, I’m all right,” he lied, fretting too much for his own liking. He had always been a terrible liar.

“Did you sleep badly?”

There was no hiding anything from Mizuchi. He sighed, knowing he had been caught. “…Yeah. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Is anything up? You can tell me if something’s bothering you.” She turned around again, making a quick gesture. “I’ll just be one minute. You sit down, have a rest first. Don’t go out just yet.”

She rushed out of the room. The door was left hanging. Looking on after her, Shou could not see where she had gone, but the sound of steps echoing down the corridor told him she had most likely gone to the kitchen. He was alone in her office. Only faint noise sounded out from outside.

Sighing, he flopped into the chair facing her desk. Mizuchi’s own chair had been pushed back, and papers had scattered on the floor in her rush. Instinctively, Shou reached to pick them up - then pulled back, remembering the last time he had found out things he did not need to.

_Kagemaru-san,_ he thought. _Is he still angry at me?_

He had not spoken to the old man for a week. At best, he would have forgotten, or have let the events of the past week slide past. At worst, he would refuse to speak to him ever again. With how things were looking at Amaruya, Shou knew he would be at the job for a long time. He dreaded coming to the House, and not being able to speak to Kagemaru until the day the old man would die.

The delivery job was part of his weekly routine. With Ryou refusing to come back, only speaking to their mother on occasion by phone, Shou had no choice.

It had been a year since one of the fights between his father and Ryou, when his fate had been marked. The morning after he had failed to sleep, fearing more noise from the kitchen, his father had knocked on his door. Shou had been exhausted. The trembling in his hands and his chest had not helped, either. When he had opened the door to his room, he had half-expected to be met with a slap or a word of abuse.

Having an apron thrown at him and being ordered to make his hair look presentable was not what he had expected. That had been the beginning. On a morning without breakfast or as much a chance to wash his face, he had been thrust into work. He had been fortunate that it had been only a Sunday.

The following week, he resigned from the broadcasting club.

Shou’s gaze drifted up to the ceiling in thought. Had it really been a year, or just less than that? The days had flown by. Ryou had left. He had remained on his own. He was his family’s last hope to inherit Amaruya. The tea shop was his family’s business, and had always been. He would have to take it on in the future.

Even if his father had forced him in - and it was strange, he thought - Shou could not bring himself to hate the family business. It was far more pleasant than being uncertain. Amaruya had been a strange kind of blessing, even if he had not expected to be inheriting it. The tea shop had given him purpose. It had given him pleasure, seeing that he could make people smile in some way.

Amaruya had given him all the friends he had at the House of Flowers. He had met the elders and Mizuchi. Before he had met Judai, they had made his life worth living, and given him company. Tome’s hugs had made him feel warm. Mizuchi had listened to him and given advice. He had brought back tea in return.

Deep down, Shou wished he could do more for the House; but what, he was not sure of.

“I’m back…”

He turned around, seeing Mizuchi walk in. There was an ornate tray in her hands, and on top was her English teapot and cups. The steam that billowed from the teapot’s spout was smelled of freshly brewed chamomile.

There was a faint clatter as Mizuchi swerved around Shou and the chair. She set down the tray on her desk, before carefully picking up the teapot and pouring herself a hot cupful. “Would you like some as well?”

“Is… is there enough? It’s your tea,” Shou said, not wanting to inconvenience her.

Mizuchi shook her head. “There’s just enough left over from last week. I haven’t opened the new packet yet.”

Shou glanced over at the box he had left on the floor. Mizuchi’s brown packet, her name written on it as ever, was indeed still there, amongst all the others.

“No,” he said, “I’m all right.”

He had drank some tea just before leaving the house. It was a little too early for another cup. Sometimes she would offer him tea, and rarely did he refuse it. Today did not feel like most other days. He was tired out, and a little nervous, having thought again of Kagemaru.

Was the old man doing all right? Had he settled from last time? Had Tome spoken to him again? Shou had far too many questions, and not enough bravery to ask every one.

Mizuchi took a small sip, careful not to burn her tongue. She blew on its surface, the ripples reflecting the sunlight. In one of her mirrors, the steam was still dancing.

“How is it?” Shou asked.

Mizuchi put the cup down, a little tea and a small smile on her lips. “Wonderful as always.”

“Thank you,” he replied. He had little reason to feel proud of himself. The tea being good was part of the job. Getting it right was nothing special.

As Mizuchi went back to her tea, Shou sat in silence, not wanting to look like he was staring. It was impolite. He was curious about whatever she had called him in for, but it was no reason to demand that she said it all straight away. Instead, he looked around the office. Faint lilac wallpaper surrounded him, as did stacks of paper and trays. There were tissues on the table and fake flowers in a vase on the windowsill, and a bookcase in the back of the room, crammed with official-looking papers and guidelines. There were ornately framed mirrors on shelves and on top of the cabinet, like framed photographs.

Mizuchi was not a vain woman, Shou had learned. She kept up appearances, but the mirrors, she had claimed once, were part of her decor. Reflections of the soul, she had called them. Some were brand-new and others older, and all of them were spaced out in a fashion that made Shou think of some kind of confusing _feng-shui._

Mizuchi had virtually taken over the place in its day-to-day running. The boss of this place, Mizuchi’s father, was near nonexistent on weekends, and had been since he had first began to deliver to the House. He had wondered about him, and asked once, but received no concrete answer.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like some as well?”

Shou looked straight back, somewhat startled. “Um, no, thanks.”

“That’s all right,” Mizuchi said, setting the cup back on her desk. “Though, you know, sometimes it is better if you let yourself relax. Don’t push yourself too hard. If somebody offers you something to make your life easier, take it.”

It was easier said than done. Sometimes, Shou worries for his own safety; for all he knew, his father was always watching, always ready to pick out his errors and criticise every word wrongly said, even fingers out of place. Mizuchi’s kindness was one thing; his father’s strictness another.

He said nothing, only nodding - then reaching out a declining hand to say that he really did not want anything. As soon as Mizuchi went back to drinking her tea, he began to think about what he had wanted to ask her.

“…Mizuchi-san?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you want me to stay here first?”

“Ah.” Mizuchi stood up, pushing her cup to the side. Shou scuttled back, out of the way, pushing his chair back. She moved past, her indoor shoes tapping lightly on the old floor of the office, until she came to the bookcase.Her eyes scanned it, up then down, then up again, just for a second. Then, she reached out, her other hand held up below to support anything that might fall, and pulled out a brown paper folder. Holding it close to herself, trying to stop its contents from spilling, she turned back and returned to her seat.

Plopping down in her chair again, she gestured to Shou, and he obeyed, moving his chair closer and closer.

“You see, I… I don’t know if this will be any use, but I just started thinking. About what you said. About the past.”

Shou’s heart skipped an anxious beat, remembering his guilt over listening to Kagemaru. He cringed, just remembering how rotten he had felt on the inside, and how that feeling was persisting on still.

Mizuchi continued. “I thought about this place for some reason, and I started looking around. I asked Dad as well, and he said there was some stuff that he saved. I think he found this while digging around a while back. I’m not sure what exactly you meant last week, and this probably has nothing to do with what you’re curious about, but I just thought it might interest you.”

She nudged the folder across the desk, giving him a slight nod. “Go on. Open it. I thought it was interesting.”

Shou took hold of the folder, pulling it to himself and resting it on his lap. It was far from heavy. Through the thick, dulling brown paper, he could barely feel anything inside. Carefully, he pried it open.

He had been right. It was practically empty. There were no more than five or so papers, and those were small in themselves. He lifted out one of them, and it was only when he had fully pulled it out that he saw the image.

It was a black-and-white photograph, depicting some kind of street, with a streetcar line cutting through its centre. Small crowds were all over the place, women and men in all kinds of clothing, both traditional and Western-looking. Tall buildings surrounded the road, though the closer he looked, the more he recognised the location, and the smaller the buildings looked in comparison to the place that he knew.

“This is Ueno,” he realised, eyes widening with curiosity. “When was this?”

“Look on the back.”

Shou turned the photograph around. In neat, fading pencil, was the answer: _Showa Year 12, November._

“That was just before the war, wasn’t it? Nineteen -“

“1937.” Mizuchi corrected. “Yeah. It’s pretty amazing how something like this survived. But take a look at the others.”

Putting the street photograph back on Mizuchi’s desk, Shou fished out the other papers in the file at once. They, too, were photographs, all black and white. Two more were images of the streets. One of them Shou didn’t recognise; most likely a small residential pass, devoid of all people and names. The other reminded him of Ueno Park, and a quick turn of the photograph revealed that he had been right. It was the only one with anything other than its date on the back, and all of them read the same year.

It was only once the street photos had been put aside that Shou noticed the final two images. They were of humans; but unlike those on the streets of busy Ueno, they were facing the camera, and looked as if they had been aware of, and prepared for the photographer.

A Western family stood proud in the first - a tall, looming, thin man with a suit and moustache, and his smaller, bob-haired wife. Between them, in front, was a girl. Her smile outshone the dull looks on her parents’ faces, eyes dark and pretty like her mother’s, a slight gust of wind keeping her hair alive, yet frozen on paper.

The same year, in Japanese, marked it out, stark against the Western faces on the other side of the paper. 

_The Voss family. Showa Year 12, October._ Shou looked closer, and saw one more small scrawl in the corner.

_“A-del-heid?”_ He sounded out the word, barely legible, pencilled in in tiny katakana. His heart leapt as he recognised it from the first page of the diary. “I-I’ve heard that! Is that someone in the picture’s name?”

“I’m not sure. I think it might be,” Mizuchi said. “Let me check…”

She brought her chair a little closer to the desk and quickly typed. She squinted as she scrolled through what was most likely search results. Shou thought about leaning over to help, but stopped himself just in time.

_Not proper. Don’t even dare,_ his father’s voice rang in his head.

“…It says here it’s German. It’s a woman’s name, but I don’t know which one Adelheid is. She might not even be anyone in this picture.”

There were two women in the photograph - the mother and the young girl, as Shou had labelled them. Was either of them Adelheid? Was it somebody else? Was it a code of some kind, or even something completely unrelated?

The look Mizuchi gave him led him to sigh, knowing he had to give up. The photograph was of little use to him, even if the family did seem somehow fascinating; somehow out of place. Shou couldn’t help but wonder. The name _Adelheid_ was stuck on his lips.

As he moved the paper away, he caught sight of the final photograph, and it made him gasp.

In front of what looked like a shop front was another family, this time most likely Japanese natives. Arms crossed, the father of the family - Shou guessed - was draped in a haori, dulling with age. There was no woman in the image, but next to the man, either side, were two boys - one a little taller than the other, with more obedient hair. Both looked to be teenagers.

Shou took his attention away from the boys, and it was then that his heart stopped. The shop in the background was _Amaruya._

_No,_ he realised, shaking his head after a closer look. It couldn’t be Amaruya. From what he could see, in the upper part of the image, the sign was not the same. The characters were barely there in the photograph - but the sign itself was not the same sign. This had to be somewhere else, he knew, even if the front of it, and the street, matched up almost perfectly to the shop his family owned.

“No way,” he gasped. “It’s not what I think it is. I don’t know if it is, but it looks like it…”

“I think it is.” Mizuchi chimed in. “It might be, if you’re thinking what I am. It’s not exact, but what it says on the back caught my eye. That’s why I decided to show this to you.”

Shou turned it around and read.

_Amamiya and family. Showa Year 12, October._

Reading it once was not enough. He had to re-read it, once and twice and for the third time. It didn’t seem to make sense; not all of it, but some parts were coming together, the longer he left himself in silence to think.

“Amamiya.” He said it out loud, getting used to the word. “I don’t know what that is… Do you think it means the people in the photograph?”

“I’m guessing it is.”

“But that’s definitely Amaruya,” he stated. By then, he was sure. “This is my family’s tea shop. This is what it looked like back then… and I think one of these people might be my grandfather.”

Mizuchi stepped away from her desk and joined Shou by his side, leaning over for a closer look. “Which one?”

The photograph was barely clear, but it was enough for Shou to have spotted the marks. “That one on the left. The tall one. He looks just like my brother.”

The closer he looked, the more he could see the resemblance. There was something about the eyes, even in the way he stood, with a detached look on his face, that made Shou think of Ryou. _It’s not a coincidence,_ he realised - _if that really is our grandfather, it would make sense. He looks Ryou’s age here, and this was… seventy years ago?_

It made sense.

Shou did not know how old his grandfather had been when he died. He had been born after his death - from what his father had said -  and had never known him. Ryou was only two years older, and would not have remembered either. Their father did not keep photographs of his parents.

The only photographs in their house, apart from a few family shots from years ago were of his mother, and her side of the family, with whom Shou was barely familiar with. They would come to visit every few years, but most of the time, they were retired, and lived far off on Okinawa, and did not have any reason to come to crowded, bustling Tokyo.

_I don’t think Dad would have wanted any photos of me. He only has that one of all of us together because it was Ryou’s school entrance ceremony. Mom probably told him to take it._

It wasn’t surprising, Shou knew; someone like him probably wasn’t worthy of being remembered.

“Oh, gosh.” Mizuchi half-whispered. “I didn’t know. I didn’t realise that was the same place…”

“No, it’s all right,” Shou said. “It’s not a bad thing. At least, I… I think this is useful.”

Was this what Kagemaru had been talking about, or had it been something completely unrelated? Shou did not know enough about the old man to be sure. His reluctance to speak on the topic had left him uneasy. Had he known his grandfather, or the other boy in the photograph? Did he know the names of the man in the haori, or about the foreign family?

“Mizuchi-san,” he asked, trying to sound as polite as possible, “can I borrow these photographs?”

“What for?”

“I… I think this might be connected to Kagemaru-san.”

It was only speculation. Still, the old man’s story was as much a mystery to him, one year on, as the identities of the people in the photographs. It was worth an attempt, at least. Even if he knew nothing, it would at least be a step in some sort of direction.

Shou gulped, hoping he would not be humiliated by the old man if he really turned out to know nothing.

“Are you going to ask him?” Mizuchi looked worried for a moment. “I would take it easy with him. You know he’s frail. He might not be happy.”

“I… I know. I just want to try.”

“All right, then. I think he’s still in the garden.” Mizuchi sighed, looking up with hope twinkling in her eyes. She looked just as eager, even if she did sound a little nervous, as Shou himself did. They could only hope that the answers would be waiting for them.

Excusing himself, Shou clutched at the photographs, letting the brown folder flutter to the ground as he opened the door out of Mizuchi’s office. He started to run. He did not care if anyone heard his loud paces on the creaky hall floor, or if one of the nurses complained. He needed an answer, a quick one - even if that answer was nothing more than an ‘I don’t know’ and a shrug of the shoulders.

His shoes were waiting for him by the front door, where he had left them. Picking them up in one hand, the photographs in his other, he ran in the other direction. His fingers ached by the time he had gotten to the other end of the corridor. As soon as he could, he put everything down. With the photographs under watch - there was wind out, and he did not want them blowing away - he sat down on the steps leading out to the garden.

He pulled his shoes on, almost too quickly. He was about to set off again, but seeing his laces undone made him worry. Fixing them and picking up the photos again, he ran on outside.

Mizuchi had been right. Kagemaru was indeed still outside, his wheelchair parked by one of the benches. The one he was next to was empty; the other, mirroring it, was taken up by a trio of ladies, discussing what appeared to be the day’s newspaper headlines.

The rustle of pages rang through the breeze, filling the air with the scent of ink and fresh paper amongst the tickle of pollen and flowers.

Whether Kagemaru had seen him or heard him, Shou could not tell. The old man was sat upright as always, looking neither left nor right, but always forward, his eyes ghostly grey, as if caught up in thoughts or memories of the past.

_Please, I hope you have the memories I’m after._

“Kagemaru-san? I’m back.” He called to the man, sitting down on the empty bench, a couple of feet from his side. Turning to face him, he ignored the women and the politics they were arguing over to focus on Kagemaru alone.

The old man looked almost asleep with his eyes only half-open. It had spooked Shou the first few times he had seen Kagemaru do it, but over the past year, the worry had calmed.

“What is it?” He groaned, as he turned back to face Shou. The look on his face was the usual, if not a little grumpier from being thrust out of respite.

Shou hesitated. His chest seized up, and his voice caught in his throat. For a few seconds, he couldn’t force even a squeak out. Kagemaru looked on. He did not want to keep him waiting, but the look on his face, or his voice, or - something, he was not sure - was keeping him pinned down to the bench. His hands pressed down onto the wood, looking for comfort. He took another breath in, trying to stay steady.

“Um… Kagemaru-san? Can you take a look at these pictures?”

Slowly, he reached forward, handing him both the photograph of the boys, and the one of the foreign family. His hands shook, and he found himself letting go as soon as Kagemaru’s wrinkled hands took hold of both photographs.

For a moment, there was silence between them. The old man’s hands were unsteady, and shook by the second. Shou felt his heart seize, worried that he would let the papers fly from his fingers.

The women’s voices took over again. Shou tried to ignore them, leaning in closer to Kagemaru. His hands gripped the side of the bench in desperation.

“Hm,” the old man finally let out a grunt. He had been right - he was connected, he had remembered something.

Shou’s heart skipped a beat with hope. “Kagemaru-san?”

“…I didn’t want to see this ever again.”

His heart sank immediately, then began to pound. Shou had to think hard about just breathing steadily. In that instant, he lost all sense of control.

“What’s wrong?”

“This. All of this. All of these things.” His fingers traced the figures on the family photograph, lingering just a little on the girl. “Where did you get these?”

“I-I don’t know where they came from. Mizuchi-san gave them to - _to me.”_ Shou stammered out.

Before he could do anything else, Kagemaru thrust the photographs back. The stern look on his face commanded him to take them. “Tell her to throw them away. I don’t want to see them.”

“W-why? What’s wrong with them?” Shou mumbled, desperately trying to keep calm - but failing. He knew he couldn’t keep his panic at bay any longer. “Do - do you know who those people are?”

“It doesn’t matter who they are. They’re all _dead and gone._ What does it matter to you?” Kagemaru sighed, shaking his head. His forehead fell into his palm and he winced, as if nursing a headache. “…What do _you_ want with these? Is this for your school history assignment?”

“N-no. I I just wanted to know… I thought you might…”

“Well, I don’t.”

“…What about _history repeating itself?”_

As soon as the words left his mouth, Shou clasped his hands over it. He had not thought. His heart beat faster, his breaths hitching on-and-off. His hands were already clammy. They began to tremble.

Kagemaru said nothing. Instead, he sighed, his hands drooping down to his sides again, hitting the sides of the wheelchair. The photographs fell to the ground. Shou panicked, scooping them up before they could be carried off by the wind.

“What do you know? What do you young people know? Nothing, that’s what,” Kagemaru huffed, the irritation more and more evident in his tone by the syllable. Instinctively, Shou shuffled away on the bench, hoping the old man would not lash out. His lower half was near frozen, as if pinned to his seat.

_“I - I -”_

Kagemaru didn’t stop. “You think you can just ask about things that don’t concern you. But let me tell you, _curiosity killed the cat._ It doesn’t matter who I knew, or who I didn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because I don’t want to think about it. The past’s dead and gone.”

“But - “

_“Dead and gone.”_

It was then that Shou realised that he had no choice. He had to give up. Kagemaru was far from happy, and he had only made it worse by saying the one thing he had forbidden himself to admit. He knew. He had let it slip that he had overheard Kagemaru. A small voice in the back of his head told him Kagemaru would never want to speak to him ever again.

Biting back the taste of guilt in his throat, Shou clutched at the photographs, and picked himself off the bench. He could not bear to even say goodbye. Tome and Samejima and Ayukawa were still at the back of the garden, as were some of the others. They looked on, confused - but he could not go to them. He could not go back.

Even the women with the newspaper had begun to wrap up their talk, leaving the paper folded and forgotten on the other side of the bench. His time here was finished.

It would probably be time for lunch at the House soon. He had work to get back to. Shou knew he had to leave; his father would not keep on waiting. He would be degraded with looks alone. He sighed, chest heavy and throat raw, and walked away, back towards the door.

In Shou’s hands, the photographs caught the light of the sun, and for a second, the foreign girl’s eyes glittered with life on the paper, as they had almost seventy years past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act II’s title came to me while reading the diary of journalist Kiyosawa Kiyoshi, published as ‘A Diary of Darkness’. The book is definitely interesting, both as an insight into both political opinion and life in WWII Japan. On the day of Kiyosawa’s last entry (he died shortly before the war ended in 1945), he mentions an article being in that day’s newspaper, on ‘a history of fire in Edo’. While it referred to arson (Edo was known as 'The City of Fires' for a reason), the more abstract image of ‘a history of fire’ captivated me, and the phrase stuck.
> 
> I guess, in some ways, the history of the Chronicleverse is a ‘history of fire’ - not of fury and violence, but of human fire - the fire of passion and love.
> 
> For now, thanks for reading, and please leave a comment!


	11. Ch. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music: [insert confused mathematics lady meme here](http://seruspica.tumblr.com/post/160532655328/much-dash-such-doge-yuri-kuma-arashi-ost).
> 
> Advance warning - this story is going to get dark in places. Some more upsetting themes will be discussed, from this chapter onwards, right through the fic: specifically, a lot of talk of death and loss. You have been warned.

_** chapter ten. ** _

“Judai, what if… what if I told you that something weird happened to me, and I can’t think straight without it being on my mind?”

Shou’s hand pressed down, longing for the cold comfort of the surface of the table. It felt pleasant,  his hand warm, warmth and slight damp sticking it down. Faint music - some kind of saxophone-based jazz instrumental Eri had most likely picked out - droned on in the background, far more pleasant than the quiet he had faced upon his return to Amaruya the day before.

“Hm?” Judai looked up, having been staring into the milky swirl of what had once been strong, jet-black coffee. “What do you mean?”

“Like… it sounds crazy. But I’m convinced it’s all real.” Shou looked back, almost pleading. He had tried to rehearse the lines beforehand, and failed to get them out in front of a mirror. It was strange, he knew.

Why he had made the decision to tell Judai the truth about everything, he still was not sure of. Some part of him was still not convinced of what Kagemaru had said.

Only in the last week, and then, more so since the day before, had things been slowly edging together. It made him uneasy; unable to sleep, fearing that his time with Judai was ticking down with each move of the clock. Telling him would be an uphill struggle, he knew - but Judai had already seen the diary, and read Shou’s thoughts and summaries in text. Kagemaru’s words and the photographs Mizuchi had given him were tied to that diary. Between lying in bed and staring at the surroundings of the counter at Amaruya, the pieces had started to click into place.

“Well, you’ve got to tell me first.” Judai said, sitting up in his chair. He eased forward.

Shou gulped. “Promise me you won’t think I’m crazy?”

“Depends on what it is.”

He took a deep breath, fingers beginning to shake on the tabletop. “…The past is repeating itself.”

There was silence, just for a few seconds. Shou could hear the blood rush through his ears amongst the faint music and chatter throughout Miracle Fusion. His eyes were fixed on Judai, hoping he would not see and hear laughter, or feel the pain of not being believed.

“What do you mean?” Judai asked after a moment of quiet. He tilted his head in confusion, quirking an eyebrow.

“I… I’m not sure,” Shou confessed. “I’m not sure what it means, but it’s happening. I overheard Kagemaru-san from the House of Flowers talking about it, on the day when we went there together. He… he said that history was starting to repeat itself. And, well…”

“Hm?”

“…if it repeats itself the way he said it would, we won’t be friends any more.” He choked it out, hoping it was not true and at the same time, knowing that it was. Kagemaru was old, and with age, he knew, came knowledge. He had seen the past unfold before his eyes, or heard of it at least. If it had been nothing more than the ramblings of an old man, he would have dismissed it when Shou had interrogated him. The way he had hidden the truth, or tried to conceal it, had been alarming. Something dreadful had to have been kept in the dark, so frightening it could not be spoken of, and strong enough to tear apart Shou’s only true friendship.

There was more silence.

“How come?”

Shou shook his head. “I really don’t know. But I think it has something to do with the diary we found. I wasn’t sure about it, but then, this name kept coming up. I think it might be real. What Kagemaru-san said, and the things in the diary. They’re connected. It’s real, Judai.”

“Wait, hold on.” Judai interrupted, somewhat confused. “What name?”

_“Adelheid.”_

“A-del-heid.” He repeated the name, switching into his American accent before saying it again. It flowed much more smoothly this time than it had on Shou’s Japanese-speaking tongue, or even on Mizuchi’s, who could speak English far better Shou. “That’s… what, German?”

“Yeah. It’s a German girl’s name,” Shou said, recalling what Mizuchi had found. “And, well, Mizuchi found some pictures. She gave these to me, and I think Adelheid is somebody in the photograph. She’s… she’s actually _real.”_

He reached for the small bag he had brought with him to the coffee shop, pushing past his wallet and the diary itself to take out the photographs Mizuchi had given to him, wrapped in a piece of plain paper. He had tried to find some kind of wallet to keep them in, but the original folder had been left at the House of Flowers, and he had felt too sheepish at the end of his work shift yesterday to ask for it. At home, there had been nothing to replace it, and asking his father was not something he had wanted to do.

“Here,” he slid the photograph of the Western family across the table to Judai. “The name is on the back. I don’t know much else.”

Judai took it, pushing aside his coffee and picking up the photograph with care. His eyes gave it a glance, looking left and right for clues. He turned it over and squinted, trying to read the faint pencil writing on the back. Shou couldn’t help but wish he had found a folder - he had probably made the pencil lines fade even more.

After a few moments of looking at both sides, having turned it over a few times and checking again, Judai put the photograph down.

“So, one of the people is Adelheid? Adelheid… _Voss?”_

“Yeah,” Shou nodded. He had never sounded out the name in full. The surname on the back, he realised, would have most likely been Adelheid’s, anyway. “It’s either the woman or the girl. And there’s another picture. I think my grandfather’s in that one. It’s from the same year.”

He rummaged around in his makeshift paper envelope, passing Judai the other image. Three faces stared up from the table; three men in front of a place that had to be Amaruya, as it had been in the past. Only one of them was recognisable to Shou - the face of his grandfather, he knew. He had never seen the man’s face before, but his brother’s eyes were too stark on the stranger’s face for it to be anyone other than a member of his own family.

“Your grandfather’s that one, right?” Judai asked, pointing.

“Yes. I’m sure that has to be him.”

“Who are the other guys, then?”

“I don’t know. I thought the older one might be my great-grandfather or something, but he doesn’t look much like my grandfather. I don’t know anything about him. The back says ‘Amamiya and family’. I don’t know what that means.”

“These two could be Amamiya,” Judai pointed at the two strangers in sequence. “Like, father and son or something. Or it’s just one of them. Doesn’t explain what your grandfather’s doing here.”

“You’re right,” Shou agreed. “Unless they adopted him. Which doesn’t make sense, because we all have the Marufuji name.”

“What if he didn’t change it? Or your father did, and your grandfather was Amamiya to start with?”

Shou froze, trying to process the thought. It seemed possible. His father had hated his grandfather, enough for any mention of him in the house to be shot down, and painfully punishable. Changing family names would have been a great break from the past, he thought. Had that been his father’s lash-out at his own father before him?

At the same time, the other thought persisted on - what if his grandfather had been the first to take on the Marufuji name? What about the other name - why had he changed it? Who were these strange Amamiya people, and what did they have in common with the man Shou knew as Marufuji Satoru?

The possibilities seemed limitless; the speculation never-ending and infinite. It made his head spin, just thinking about it.

“…I don’t know,” he shook his head, sighing. “There’s so many things it could have been. I don’t even know what’s going on any more. Nobody can help us.”

“But… you asked Kagemaru, right?” Judai objected.

Shou shook his head. “I did, but he didn’t tell me much. He didn’t want to, not really,” he said, despair pushing down on his tongue. “He did seem to _know_ something, though. He said that he didn’t want to see _something_ again.”

“So he’d seen the pictures before?”

“Yeah. You know, that’s got to be it,” Shou realised. “What Kagemaru said about the past repeating itself, and the things written in Grandfather’s diary.” What it all meant, he did not know, not exactly, but the links were starting to establish themselves. As he sat, eyes on the ceiling and mouth slightly agape, not caring if Judai thought he looked silly, he thought of the possibilities.

“I think they’re connected,” he admitted. “They’re the same story. It’s just too weird otherwise.”

He did not need to say how weird it all seemed already. A few weeks ago, he had known nothing about his family’s past, or even considered the idea of history repeating itself. Now, his hands and head were full of strange pieces he had barely even touched on, and many more things were still out there, some far beyond his reach. Judai had helped him skim the surface of the past; now, the sea was wide open in front of him. He would not be able to stop himself jumping in.

Looking back at Judai, he could not help but worry. Had he believed him? Was he about to burst into laughter? Had his idea really been that stupid? Shou swallowed.

When Judai spoke up again, it was far from what Shou had been scared of. “And… something that happened in the past is repeating itself?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? We’ve got to find out what’s actually repeating. And if you don’t want it to repeat completely, you’ve just got to stop it and do it your own way.” He smiled, hope still bright in his eyes.

Shou’s heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“You… believe me?” His own disbelief at what he was hearing tugged from within.

“You’ve never lied to me. Besides, we’re friends, right? If something bad really is going to happen, then we’ve got more chance of stopping it together.”

Judai pushed his now-empty cup aside, reaching a hand out across the table. He left his open palm in front of Shou, as if expecting him to take it. Before he could, he raised it, so that only his elbow was down on the table.

“Well?” Judai beckoned. His hand opened up, inviting Shou closer. “Handshake? Make it a promise?”

Shou fretted in his seat, taken aback. _“Promise?”_

“Yeah. This is my promise. I believe you, and I’ll help you find out what happened. I mean, you said it might stop us being friends, right?”

Shou nodded, hesitating. He did not want to lose him, or their trust in each other.

“That means we’ve both got a part to play in this. If you’re doing something, then I’ll help you. I might not live at your house, and I kinda have work, but I’ll do what I can, all right?”

“…All right.” Trying to smile, and feeling the urge to in spite of the worries trying to drag him down and away, Shou reached forward to clasp back at the hand. He did not get all the way there before Judai took hold of it first, giving it a firm, unexpected shake.

His hand was warm and steady, and it filled him with warmth.

“See? Not a problem,” Judai grinned back, letting go after a few seconds. “Hey, Misawa! Think you can get us a slice each?”

Shou turned around, seeing a rather surprised Misawa behind him. He could not help but flinch, worried about how long he had been standing there for, if at all. Had he heard everything? He bit his lip, hoping he had not.

If he had, he would not have understood. It would still be strange to explain.

“What kind?” Misawa asked, hands pressing an empty tray close to his chest. “And who’s paying? If you are, you’d better pay up…”

“All right, hey, I’m sorry about last time!” Judai laughed. “I’ll pay for it later. And it's the usual kind!”

“Do you even get any discounts?”

He let out a groan that turned into a laugh, walking off back behind the counter to reach for the cake. In the weeks since he had started work there, bringing cake to customers had become nothing out of the ordinary - or so Judai had said. Judai’s own work was mainly behind the counter, whereas Misawa brought food and drink to the tables. Manjoume, whenever he had the same shift, alternated.

“Misawa’s a good guy, seriously,” Shou heard Judai whisper to him, barely audible amongst the noise in the background. “I think even Manjoume gets it.”

Shou sighed. Manjoume was not working that day. From what Judai had told him, Misawa and Manjoume had been lucky, and started no audible fights. What went on in the staff room was one thing, and in the cafe another, but other than a few scathing remarks, Judai had heard of nothing more sinister than the way in which they had started.

The sound of two plates clattering down on the table roused Shou from his thoughts. The cake laid before him looked just as good as the first time. He eyed it with delight, even if some part of him still groaned with discontent at the lack of anything but plain black tea with milk. Not even sugar - most likely it had been added for him, he could taste sweetness on his tongue - could make it any more tolerable.

Judai dug into his pockets and slid a few coins across the table. “That’s for both of us. Including last time, I think.”

“Wait, but - “

“Nah,” he shook his head, putting a hand out to stop Shou. “It’s on me. I don’t actually have to pay for it. That’s just a tip.”

Misawa reached for the coins, slipping them into the smaller pocket of his apron. “Thanks,” he muttered, braving a smile through eyes growing tired, before heading back to the counter.

Judai took one of the slices immediately. Picking a piece off with his spoon, he licked his lips at the sight. “Nice guy, see? Manjoume’s the grump. And I have to work with him…”

Shou smiled. It was true. He could only hope that Misawa was tolerating him as much as Judai could. He dreaded the thought of working with someone like Manjoume. Glancing over at the counter - where Misawa was attempting to organise the cartons of milk by the coffee machines - he sighed with relief. All seemed to be quiet. Unable to hold back, he took the other slice of cake Judai had paid for to his own side of the table.

Before he could taste the first spoonful, Judai interrupted, his chin already stained with cream.

“So, we’ve got to find out what happened. Kagemaru knows, right? And… you said it’s connected to the diary?”

Shou nodded, the spoon still in mid-air. “Yeah. I overheard him first. Then, I showed him the pictures, and he said he didn’t want to talk about it. So, he had to have known.”

“Because he recognised something in that photo of your grandfather?”

“I’m sure he did. Those pictures had my grandfather, and this _Adelheid_ person. I don’t know who she was to my grandfather, but… she had to have been someone important. The whole book is written to someone, and the diary said that that person is happy with her.”

“Where do you think they went, then? That person, and Adelheid?”

Shou was halfway through a mouthful of cake when he began to feel his stomach churn. It was not the cake. He had been thinking on the topic for hours, before he had come to Miracle Fusion. The conclusion he had come to had been far from pleasant. He swallowed, pausing before he confessed.

“I think they died. A long time ago. Before my grandfather wrote about them.”

“Really?”

“I mean, he said he wants to see them some day, but… even back then, he couldn’t. And he kept saying stuff about the war.” Shou sighed. It made his insides twist, thinking of death and terror. He could only guess what his grandfather had faced, but of what he knew of the war, there was not much pleasantry. “I’m pretty sure neither this _Adelheid_ , nor the other person he wrote about are still alive.”

“What do we do then? I mean, if we can’t talk to the dead…”

“I don’t know. If everyone is dead, then I can’t find out any more. Dad won’t talk about it, and if Mom does, she’ll pass it on. I don’t want Dad to know. He’ll kill me. He hates Grandfather.”

Shou felt himself tremble. _No,_ he thought. _I’m not going to panic. Don’t let me panic. This is nothing to panic about, and Judai’s around; he can’t see this._ He tried to breathe, looking down at the table and the subtly shrunken slice of cake in front of him. Suddenly, he was not hungry for it any more.

“Why does he hate him?” Judai asked.

“I don’t know. I really don’t. He just won’t let me mention him at all.”

He did not want to remember his father’s outbursts, either. He did not want to think of the time Ryou had come back upstairs with a mark on his arm. Shou did not want to remember the vice-grip of his father’s cold hands, nor the bitter ice in his eyes that signalled to him that he had done something stupid. He did not want to think that he was worthless, and dumb, and nothing but a failure, only there because his brother would not be.

Focusing hard, he took the cup of cooling tea into his hands. Warm, steady porcelain pushed back against unsteady hands.

“Shou, when did your grandfather die?”

“I - I don’t know,” he said back. It was hard to keep steady. Even the cup was starting to feel less comforting by the second. “Dad said he died before I was born. But… there are entries in the diary up until my birthday. I don’t understand why he lied to me.”

A steadier hand reached for his shoulder. He almost dropped the cup, half-full of liquid, out of surprise. He looked up. Judai had rested his hand there, looking straight back on him, calm-faced and far softer-voiced when he spoke.

“It’s all right.” Judai said back. His hand pressed down, not hard but reassuring somehow. It was as if Judai was passing him strength. He could feel his warmth emanating to him, and put the cup down, knowing that he could still break it.

With Judai holding on, it felt less and less likely. _I have a friend. I have him on my side. I just need to calm down._

He took a deep breath, thinking of what Mizuchi had said. Wincing, he waited for laughter. It never came. When he looked up again, a few breaths later, Judai was still there, not mocking or teasing, but simply as he had been. His eyes were still bright, his hand gentle but steady.

Shou sighed, silently nodding in a wordless ‘thank you’.

“I’m sorry,” Judai said back, letting go of his shoulder. “Do you not want to talk about it?”

“I’m all right,” Shou shook his head. His panic had not completely left him, but was fading out enough to let him speak normally. “We have to work this out, anyway. I was thinking of something else.”

Judai looked on, pushing his own half-finished plate to one side.

“What do you think your grandfather did, then? Why won’t your dad talk about him?”

“I don’t know.”

Shou was still far from certain. Theories from before circled around in his mind, pecking at his head like scavenging crows, left and right and without mercy. The possibilities were endless. A few felt stronger. They resonated. Shou could not shake off those ideas; he had been allured and pulled in and caught in their mess.

_I need to focus. I need to slow down. Mizuchi told me._

“But, maybe you’re right.”

“About what?”

_Maybe we do need to focus on something,_ he thought. _My grandfather. What happened to him? What if he’s really alive? What if he is? He might not be dead…_

_Is that my family’s secret?_

“Maybe there really is something here,” Shou said, looking up. “If my grandfather died after I was born, Dad must have had to lie about it for some reason. Or, maybe he’s still alive. He just stopped writing that diary. And, maybe, all this time, Dad’s been hiding it.”

Arranging his ideas was not easy, not when the options seemed to go on without end. Still, he had those ideas, and they would be enough. They could serve as his guide, to begin with, and from then on, there would be more information. If Judai really would help him find out the truth, they could piece it together, and maybe come to some kind of conclusion. Then - he swallowed as he thought of it with dread in his stomach - he might have a chance, to confront Kagemaru, or even his father. One of them would surrender. One of them would give up the truth.

“Think so?” Judai quirked an eyebrow in thought. “Well, when you think about it, though, they both kind of make sense.”

“That might be why, then.”

“How do we prove it? If you can’t ask Kagemaru, or your mom or dad?”

Shou paused, trying to think. Judai was right. He needed some kind of evidence. The diary wasn’t enough.

“I don’t know. I guess we could look around at home. I think we might still have old papers. Like… if he really did die, there has to have been a death certificate somewhere.”

“Would your dad have kept it?”

“He never throws anything important away. He might have… but,” Shou shook his head, thinking a little deeper about it. Sometimes, it scared him how little he knew about his own father. His mother had always been far more open. “I think he probably kept it. If he hates him so much, he would want to remember that he’s not alive anymore.”

Thinking of death filled him with sorrow. His chest felt heavy. His throat was turning raw with new discomfort. He could only guess at the kind of person his grandfather could have been like. Not knowing someone like him - _full of longing, full of suffering_ , he thought, recalling the tone of the diary and the sad dripping of ink from page to diary page. Even though he had not met him, nor been told much of him, the diary alone had filled him with the same kind of pain.

_He’s not alive any more_. The thought alone hurt. _He’s dead. Gone. And everyone around him, too. Everyone he wrote about in that diary. Everyone died._

_Everyone… everyone…_

It was an uphill struggle to stay strong, even when he repeated to himself, over and over, that Judai was watching. The thoughts were starting to flood. Why he was feeling so captivated, he did not know. It was not until Judai had reached forward to try and comfort him, having seen the look in his eyes, that he could confess.

“…I’m scared,” he murmured, fighting back what he knew was a childish urge to cry. “I’m scared about it.”

“About what?” Judai asked, leaning in over the table.

“…Everything. Dad finding out about this. And… and what Grandfather went through. He lost everyone.”

_Slap me already,_ Shou thought - _just do it, I know I’m being stupid. I’m overreacting. I never met him. I never knew him._

Even imagining it had been too much. The image of his grandfather flooded his vision, lone and withering in a dark room, left abandoned, just like his final diary in the depths of the attic. He knew it was strange to be thinking so much about him - about this dead man, about someone with no legacy worth speaking about in his family, but the more he left it to linger, the worse it made him feel.

Still, he could not cry. His throat ached. Tears did not come. They could not.

He did not hear Judai stand up, nor the creaking of his chair as he dragged it back across the floor. He was too caught up in what he knew was stupidity. He was stupid and childish and weak and overly attached to the point of tears - all over something that should have meant nothing at all.

He could not cry. It was not a matter of holding back. Too much was uncertain, too much of it frightening and strange. There was no feeling to describe it at once.

His face was flushed. His fringe, its usual mess, covered his eyes as he looked down, hiding his shame. He did not hear Judai coming closer. What he felt was the comfort of a pair of arms around himself, and the warmth of a second body close to his own. He caught Judai’s scent on his skin,  deep as chocolate but far more human, tinted with sweat and fatigue. His breath smelled of coffee. For once, Shou did not gag.

It didn’t matter. He was in pain from something he hated; but Judai was there. Judai was not judging, but supporting instead. Closer he held him, and Shou did the same, almost by instinct. His own hands reached out, taking in warmth.

He surrendered, and fell into him. Silently hating himself, not sobbing but in just as much pain, he let himself be pulled in. All at was rushing at once. Silently, he whispered his gratitude.

It was on that day that he became sure, after weeks upon weeks of worrying, that Judai had never lied about being his friend. Amidst the embrace and the soft, yet faintly rushing beat of his heart, he thanked God, or whatever forces of chance and chaos had given Judai to him, his embrace and his scent, both of those things and the sound of his voice somehow alluring, deep down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hearts beat.
> 
> Something you should be aware of: none of the characters of the Chronicleverse are all-knowing. Sometimes, there are no certainties, and only a wide sea of theories. Humans are like that, for better or worse.
> 
> Thank you for reading, take heed of the warning at the start of the chapter, and please leave a comment!


	12. Ch. 11

_** chapter eleven. ** _

When the time came for Shou to visit the House again, the following weekend, he had silently prayed that it would not be his last time. He had not heard from Mizuchi or her father, the House’s administrator, since the previous Saturday.

He had been having doubts all week. They had plagued him each night, leaving him tossing and turning in bed.  Amongst the silence, he had hoped that his small outburst would be forgotten. He would apologise if it was not - and it had to be done, he decided. He had acted out of line, after all.

He did not deserve Amaruya. His father had been right.

The night before he was due to come to the House again, he put a few spoonfuls of extra tea in Mizuchi’s usual bag, marked out by name. It was the least he could do. His father did not see it.

Mizuchi herself was the only hurdle he had left. The extra tea, he hoped, might appease her.

When he came to the House on Saturday morning, as he usually did, Mizuchi greeted him and guided him in, no different than usual. He had thought that she would scorn him, or push him out, or outright refuse to speak to him. Still, she spoke, making small talk as always, though Shou could not help but feel odd whenever he glanced back at her.

Something was odd in her eyes, on her face. She was not the confident, sisterly type she was on every other occasion. Some part of her looked shaken. Shou did not know why, and could not begin to guess. He did not ask. It was not his place to ask, he reminded himself; he had been brought to the House of Flowers for work and not leisure.

He had already stepped out of line by befriending her. Being friends with the people of the House were a thousand other violations of all of the strict rules of the business his father had set out for him.

Once the tea had been put down, he picked up his shoes and made his way to the garden. The elders and nurses were there, like they usually were. Some called for him to come out, and he did.

Kagemaru was not outside.

Nothing else, apart from Mizuchi herself, felt truly abnormal that morning. Tome smiled at him, just as she always did. Her chuckles were as warm as they were every weekend. Samejima, too, was just as kind as he was every time, and offered to share a story from his days as a schoolmaster.

He listened.

Shou had forgotten about Kagemaru by the time Samejima had got to halfway - and it was then that Mizuchi called him to speak.

What she had wanted to share, he could not guess. Her tone had made his stomach stir. _Not good,_ he had thought, _not good_ , as he had made his way through the corridor, praying that she was not about to complain.

He swallowed, recalling the tense look in her eyes. She would be complaining. She would not be happy about the previous time. It was why Kagemaru had not been outside. It had to be, he thought. _That’s it, isn’t it? I messed up. I know that I did…_

He had no choice but to follow. Obediently, he went back inside with a guilty nod.

The building seemed larger, or it was he that felt smaller that day - which way round it was, he could not tell. Shou’s stomach twisted as he struggled to hold back the feeling of sickness. One hand was beginning to tremble again, and he held it down, trying hard to keep breathing normally.

Even the walls seemed to radiate cold. The doors were too tall, too imposing.

When they reached the familiar office, Mizuchi opened the door. She gestured for Shou to come in, and he sat down in her office, following the guide of her hand. His own hands fell into his lap.

Wide, nervous eyes travelled up to meet hers. She did not look back. As soon as he had settled, she gestured again, telling him to stay put. With a quick swing of the door, she was gone.

Shou breathed out a sigh of relief. What it meant, he did not know; some part of him hoped that she was only going to boil water for tea. _What if she gets Kagemaru? What if it’s her father? They’re going to fire me, I know it. Then they’ll tell Dad, and I’ll have messed up…_

He did not have long to think. Before he knew it - whether he had spaced out or not, he was not sure - Mizuchi had flurried back into the room, the usual teapot in hand. He had not noticed the obvious cups on the table, and felt foolish as he watched her pour carefully, trying not to spill a drop on the desk, littered with papers. The faint, sweet smell of tea and raspberries drifted through the room. Shou would have relaxed on any other day, but the pressure that lingered all through the room kept him on edge.

Mizuchi put the kettle down, pushing forward one of the cups. Wordlessly, Shou reached for it. It was hot, just as he had suspected. Steam danced above the ripples. Mizuchi took the other cup for herself and settled down in her usual chair.

Shou did not want to be the first to speak. Anxiety was holding on, tight enough to choke him if he tried. Here he was, about to face certain humiliation - but Mizuchi, too, was saying nothing, and it made him wonder just how disappointed she was, or when she was going to ask for someone to come in and escort him out of the place.

After moments of quiet - _dead quiet,_ Shou thought, it was Mizuchi that broke the silence.

“Shou? Listen, I… I need to tell you something.”

Her head dipped low, her long silken hair falling from its usual neatness as it curtained her eyes. From the momentary glimpse Shou got of them before she looked down at her teacup, he made out grey splashes of running mascara.

“…Mizuchi-san? What’s going on?” He squeaked, feeling his stomach squeeze with uncertainty.

Her office seemed colder than usual. Outside was getting warmer by the day. Summer was on the run towards them; soon, there would be even more flowers outside the House, enough to drown out the green and black of flowerbed soil. It was odd, and he could not help but shuffle on the edge of his seat as she stirred her own cup of tea, waiting for it to cool.

Mizuchi’s Worcester china cup was a little too hot in his hands. He held on still, not caring if it burned him while giving him warmth. Steam danced upwards in trails.

She pushed her cup aside with a clatter. Shou glanced up with surprise. The tea in his cup rippled.

“There’s been some bad news. Dad’s been stressing out all week.”

Shou himself had only met with Mizuchi’s father a handful of times. Though he was the House’s administrator, most of Saturday’s work was left to Mizuchi, and Shou had never been to the House on other days. Work had him pinned to Amaruya most of the week.

From what he could recall, he was a greying, hesitant kind.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s… better kept quiet. I just think you might need to know. You’d find out eventually.” Mizuchi sighed again, her hands clutching at one another, as if scratching around for a morsel of hope. It was unlike her, Shou thought. His own heart clenched at the sight of her.

When she spoke up again, it was not with the voice of an admin, but that of a woman in panic. “It’s the House, Shou. The council’s thinking of shutting it down.”

Shou almost let the cup slip out of his hands. “What?”

Mizuchi nodded, one hand cupping her face and swiping up to put her hair back into order.

“It’s true. We don’t run this place on our own. We need the council to fund us. We don’t even own the House of Flowers. My dad runs this place, but it belongs to the council. It’s been their property for decades, and the council has the last word on it, and… I’ve heard they might not support us after next year.”

“Why?” 

She sighed. “Money, I’m guessing. There’s always something going on with the council. God damn it, why us?” Her head sank into her hands, and she let out a groan. “What did we do? Are we not making money for them? If that’s so, they can screw it. We’re not here for their bullshit. We’ve got lives on the line.”

Silence flooded the room. Shou could only begin to guess how important the House was to Mizuchi’s family. Her father was in charge of the place; he’d heard of how they’d come in to manage the home two generations ago. Mizuchi had spent her teen years helping out as a shrine maiden, harking back to her family’s original work, but the House was just as important, he thought, as the distant past and the shrine.

He had heard of Mizuchi’s brother and the illness that changed him. He was far from the old age of the House’s residents, but even he had needed some kind of care. The House provided care for the aged; and he had needed care, too. Her brother’s care had been of a different kind, after the paranoia had gripped him and left him holed up in his own kind of dungeon, but it was care all the same.

Care of all kinds was rooted to Mizuchi’s family. Losing what they had needed once meant losing all that they stood for; more than losing ownership of the place, it meant everything.

“…What do we do, then?” He mumbled, unsure what to say.

Mizuchi sat up, sighing once more. One hand brushed trailing bangs out of her eyes. “Well, that’s what I’ve been thinking about. We could protest, or campaign or something. I’m not sure if that will work, though.”

“Are there any other ideas?”

“My brother thought of petitioning.”

“Petitioning?” Shou repeated.

“Yeah. I’m sure we could get the council to reconsider if we got enough signatures. I don’t know how many we need, but the more we get, the bigger the chance that they’ll notice us. This place is too important to let it disappear from Yanaka.”

It sounded promising. For a second, Shou’s heart leapt with hope. Then, fear drowned it out again. He began to think of the worst.

“…What will happen to everyone here if it shuts down?”

“I don’t know, Shou. I really don’t know…” Mizuchi shook her head. “They might try and force everyone out. Or they’ll just stop taking in new residents. But I don’t know. I don’t want to watch this place grow emptier if they wait for the residents to die before shutting it down.”

The image hit hard. The House had always been bright and full of life, just like the flowers that had given it its name - or the other way around, he was not sure. Even if the people living there were white-haired or bald or had weary limbs and wrinkled faces, they were alive, very much so. Their smiles, every Saturday, had given him reasons to be happy for an entire year. They were old, but they were happy to live. He felt sick at the thought of those that remained greying and greying as the place emptied, once and forever.

Even if they were to be moved, it would not be the same. How long the House had been there, he was not sure. However long, it was part of the community. It would not be the same without the flowers, or the smiles of the elderly folk. Seeing it die would be seeing death itself come for more than just a single large house - one that stood out in the area, and would always stand out, no matter how much the streets and fashions would age.

“…I don’t want it to be like that.” His voice was hoarse, no more than a whisper.

“And neither do I,” Mizuchi replied. “That’s why I’m hoping we can petition. I don’t know how much time we have left, but if they give us until October, then we have a chance. We just need time on the streets, and the September festival. We have our usual House stall for that.”

Shou’s eyes widened, remembering. Mizuchi was right. The neighbourhood festival, one day in September, would bring in a crowd. It would be an opportunity, he thought - one that would not involve shouting out on a quiet street for a day, or knocking door-to-door like a fool.

The House had always been granted a place for a stall, which Mizuchi’s family and the nurses would run. One year, it had been lemonade, the previous candies.

“Have you got something to do for then?”

“I hope so,” she said. “We were thinking of lemonade again, or street food of some kind. We might have to do more than that, though. It might not be enough.”

“I don’t know if I can do anything. But if you need me… I’ll help.”

Shou looked up, hoping that Mizuchi was right. He had felt the urge to help out almost immediately. The House was more than just income for him and the family business; he had forgotten about that recently. More than anything, the people of the House had become his friends. Mizuchi was like a sister to him, Tome more like an aunt than a nurse, Samejima akin to an uncle. Kagemaru, though distant, was a valued member of the House, as were all of the others. He knew - something tugged at his chest, at his heartstrings - that something was necessary, and that he would have to give to the cause if the House was going to stay here.

Whatever his father would say about him lending a hand, it did not matter. The festival would be a Sunday. Even so, he would resist. The House would not be allowed to die.

“Thank you.” Mizuchi nodded, her smile only small but still noticeable. “We need all the help we can get, if the rumours are true.”

“I can ask Judai.”

“Ask him. Ask your parents. Ask everybody you can to support this place. We’re going to make this petition, and we’re going to fight for this place.”

Shou nodded. In Mizuchi’s eyes was steel. He was far from strong, unlike her. He had envied her for a long time - she had always been assertive and confident, yet loving, and he wished that he could have been born as certain as her. He had always been quiet and weak, in the shadows of both his brother and father, and even after Ryou had left, the pressure had stayed. He had barely held on for a year. There had been moments when he had borderline crumbled.

He would try, at the very least.

He walked back to Amaruya after he had finished his tea with Mizuchi with a small light of hope in his heart. The future was uncertain, but Mizuchi was there, on the same side, and Judai, he hoped, would be, too. He had not been here for long, he knew, but he hoped he would understand.

Work followed immediately after; when evening came, he barely stayed awake through dinner. As soon as his father’s usual interrogation was finished, he went back to his room and could not stave off sleep for long. The plan, to ask Judai to help with the cause, was forgotten.

It was only when he woke up on the following day that he remembered, and not by himself. He was woken up by the sound of his phone. With a yawn, he answered.

Judai’s voice rang out, so loud it startled him out of half-slumber.

“Hey, are you still up for looking for those papers? You know, about your grandfather?”

He had completely forgotten about the promise.

He felt sheepish as he forced himself out of bed that morning, torn halfway between getting dressed and replying to Judai. He hoped nobody had seen him as he came downstairs.

His father was sweeping the floor. He gave Shou nothing more than a grunt as he passed through for breakfast. Shou didn’t look back. He could only hope that he had not messed up with his plans. His father was regular to a point, he knew, and he had made sure that Judai would come at the right time. His mother, luckily, had a Sunday work shift.

It was only a few hours after breakfast that Shou, in his room, heard the door slam. Quickly sending Judai a message - the signal that they were safe to look around - he went out into the corridor and opened the door to his parents’ bedroom. All was silent. Nobody was there. He had been right.

He would check there, first. There were folders that they kept in the drawers. If not there, he knew, they would be in his mother’s study. He dreaded the thought that he would have to dig through the whole place - she had taken over Ryou’s room in the weeks since his brother had left, moving into it her computer and the books she had stashed over the years. She had always been a reader, so she had told him; her shelves were stacked full of books of all kinds, some fiction and some simply photo books of all the places she had dreamed of travelling to one day.

_Why don’t you travel, then?_ He had asked her that once, not long after Ryou had left. _Why don’t you go on vacation, even just you?_

She had not answered. Work, he had assumed. His mother was a pharmacist, down in Ueno. Her job was a world away from the old streets of Yanaka. His own world, and her world at home, was a different one. It was a world that Shou knew he had been born into, but not destined to remain in. He would have found some other calling had Ryou not lashed out and demanded to leave; what it was, he did not know.

He could not bring himself to hate Amaruya. Apart from the House of Flowers, it was the only place he had truly loved. All that had stood in his way was his father.

He did not spend long wondering. The knock at the door alerted him, and he went to answer, hoping it was not one of his parents. When it opened, he breathed out a sigh.

Judai greeted him, smiling as usual. “Hey,” he said. “You all right?”

“I… I’m fine,” he replied, trying his best to not let his mind wander.

“So, we still doing this? Think we can get where we need to?”

Shou swallowed. His parents would not be home. “Y-yeah,” he mumbled awkwardly. “Mom’s at work, and Dad’s out for a walk. He always is this time on Sundays.”

He had tried to get the timing just right. If his mother came in, he could only pray that she would not say a word and let the whole thing slide without fuss. On the other hand, his father would mean instant hell. The latter was not only more dangerous, but more unpredictable. Thinking of it made him shiver.

“All right,” Judai smiled confidently, kicking his shoes off lazily. Putting them aside on the step, he followed Shou in. Shou led him upstairs, looking around just in case. Some part of him couldn’t shake off the fear that somebody was watching them all through the house, every small step.

He guided him to his parents’ bedroom, leading him straight to the drawers. Carefully, he opened one up. “Here. I mean, some things are here. I don’t know what is.”

Judai picked up one folder, turning it to check the spine. “2003-4, finances,” he read.

“Damn. Sorry, I really should have checked.”

“It’s all right,” Judai shrugged, giving the folder a quick flick-through. “Nope, nothing in it. Can you check the rest of them?”

Shou nodded. Rummaging through, he could only find more financial records. Each one was full of calculations and documents, some order forms and what had to be copies of tax documentation. More numbers flashed through. None of the papers were linked to any kind of certificates.

“Damn, is that all of them?” Judai asked, groaning. “There’s nothing in here. You sure your dad kept the certificates?”

“I think so,” Shou said. “I’m not sure but I think he did. I… I kind of have this feeling.”

“Like… what kind of feeling?”

“That he’s not the kind of person to just throw things away. I mean, he kept some of these financial statements. They’re recent. Maybe there’s older ones somewhere. I don’t know…”

He was beginning to stress over it. What if there aren’t any? What if we never find them? What then? The thoughts circled around, over and over. He had to stay calm.

Judai paused to think. “Is there anywhere else they might be?”

The study remained. Shou swallowed. He did not want to dig into it.

There was one more option, he knew. The local government office would have a copy of the papers in the family record. Still, it was not an option he wanted to take; his stomach churned at the thought of just asking. He did not want to look like a fool. He was not even sure if he could ask for them legally, without just being turned away.

Asking his parents was not a choice. His mother would say nothing, and his father would turn him away.

“Well, there’s the study. I’ve seen a lot of stuff there. I just don’t know if we can get through the whole place before Dad gets home,” he confessed.

_One more chance…_

“Lead on?”

“All right.”

He shut the drawer, making sure all of the folders were safely back inside. He hoped that nobody would notice the difference. As Judai had said, he led him out of the room and turned to his mother’s study, looking around once again just to check, one last time, that they were well and truly alone. Hearing nothing but Judai’s footsteps around him, he opened the door. Silently, he crept in.

The place was cluttered with books. It had been cluttered for more than a year now. How quickly his mother had moved into what had been his brother’s old room never ceased to amaze him. It had been no more than two months when the place began to look well-used already. Ryou had always been neat. His mother, on the other hand, left books and papers on the desk. Some, he noticed as he tiptoed, had spilled onto the ground.

He had seen it far messier. She had most likely recently cleaned.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing to Judai to follow.

There was an office chair in front of the desk. Shou hesitated before walking over towards the window, where another chair - wooden, without wheels - was standing, only a few papers stacked on the seat. He moved them aside before carrying over the chair.

He set it down in front of the book-case. Looking up, he could see folders, some marked as work and others with plain white spines, without a word on them.

Before he could climb up, Judai had already beaten him to it.

“Here, I’ll do it. I’m taller, anyway.”

Shou couldn’t help but cringe. It was true, as much as he hated being small for his age.

Not wanting to look any sillier, he stood back. Judai picked out one of the unmarked folders and cracked it open.

“Hmm… I think that’s your mom’s things. Wait, is she related to your grandfather, or is it your dad?”

“My dad.”

“Dammit.”

As soon as he had browsed through the whole thing - quite quickly - he put it back. The second folder slid out, just like the first. Shou hoped that it was the right one this time.

“Nope. I think this is just bills.” Judai groaned. “Next one.”

He withdrew another. It was a blue folder this time, unmarked like the rest of them. Shou craned his neck, watching him read.

“Hey, think I’ve got something!”

Shou’s heart skipped a beat. He took a step back, letting Judai get off the chair. Holding the folder as if it were treasure, Judai sat back in the office chair instead, and Shou moved the chair he had been standing on closer to him, just to see into the folder.

“Here. You take a look. I just saw the first ones.”

Shou took the folder, prying it open. The first clear wallet housed what looked like a marriage certificate. He gave it another look, in more detail this time. He had not been wrong at first glance. He had found his parents’ record of marriage. The year marked down was 1982. His brother had been born three years after.

He turned to the next wallet, housing his father’s birth certificate. Checking the ‘father’ section, his heart leapt - there was the name he had searched for, that for weeks he had been wondering about, questioning if what he had heard had even been genuine.

“What is it?” Judai asked, peering over his shoulder.

“The name. My grandfather’s real,” Shou breathed out. As strange as it seemed, it felt like such a relief to him. The man had never been talked about. Sometimes, Shou had questioned if he had even had a grandfather at all.

“Satoru,” Judai read. “That’s his name, then?”

“Yeah,” Shou nodded. He had only heard it mentioned a few times in his life. Still, he was certain. He had found the man he had been looking for.

A few more flicks of pages followed - his brother’s birth certificate, just as he had known, dating back to 1985, three years after his parents had married and two years before his own birth. All of the information was matching up - his father was named Satoru, and he was down as a shopkeeper - of Amaruya, Shou was certain. He had found the previous master of the family business. Once, his grandfather had been the heir, the same as Shou had been made a year prior.   


“There’s my certificate,” he said, spotting another key document. Nothing seemed out of place on it.

The date - September 25th, and the place of birth were all things he had been aware of. None of it seemed odd in his eyes. His father had never lied about his birthday, nor about the parentage written down on the certificate. He was his parents’ child. He had not adopted, like he had once feared, questioning the stragely pale colour of his hair, and the grey-green murk of his eyes that he had failed to see in his mother’s own.

“Any clues there?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Nothing odd.”

There were more papers filling the folder, one in each wallet. Shou turned more pages, noting more papers, even his grandfather’s marriage papers to a woman that Shou had never known either - followed by a death certificate that had answered the question of why. Her name had been Tomoyo, and she had died not long after Shou’s father had been born, after what looked like a bad bout of winter pneumonia.

“Death,” he said, swallowing the word bitterly. “I think we’re getting somewhere.”

He was right. It was on the page after that he stopped. Even the title of the document was enough to leave him frozen for half a moment.

“Got it. That’s it, that’s his death certificate.” Careful, fearing it would tear even in its plastic wallet, Shou traced the text on the certificate with his finger. “Marufuji Satoru. He really did die. Judai, he’s dead.”

The name made him shiver. It was not a name his father had spoken out loud. Any mention of his grandfather, even the slightest, shyest question, had always been either shot down or pushed aside. He had learned to stop asking after his curiosity took him too far once; he had been only eight, but it had been stupid of him to keep asking about it. The red mark left on his wrist had been his punishment for that day. It was the only time his father had physically hurt him.

The mark had long since faded, but sometimes, Shou would swear that he felt that same sting, like a ghost on his skin.

Judai leaned back, having not seen much of it this time. It was unlike the curious looks he had given to all of the pages before.

“Are you going to read it?” Shou asked.

He turned back to see Judai shaking his head. “You’re his relative. You read it first, then you tell me.”

It was far from the usual for Judai to give him space. Still, Shou accepted it, glad he could have some privacy. Heart beating faster, anxious to know, he began to read, line by line, word by word.

_Marufuji Satoru… age of death: 65. Date of birth: May 17, 1922… date of death: September 25, 1987…_

Shou blinked.

He cracked open the diary and flicked back to the final entry to check. The last entry, and all the rest of them, in the same script, had been written by his grandfather. He looked back, and read it again. _September 25th, 1987._

When it clicked in his head a few seconds later, Shou felt his heart seize. He had to have misread something, he realised.

_September 25, 1987. Wrong date. It can’t be._

He turned back to the certificate, and read it again.

“…Judai?” he murmured.

“Yeah?” As if on cue, Judai leaned over, peering over his shoulder. “What have you spotted?”

“This,” Shou pointed. “Can you read out that date? The date he died? I think I’m misreading it.”

Judai looked confused, but replied nonetheless. “Sure. September 25th, 1987.”

“Oh, my God.”

“What is it?”

“That’s the day I was born. The diary matches up… but that’s not just the end of it, that’s the day he actually _died…”_

Things were becoming stranger and stranger. Some of it was making sense, even if Shou was desperately wishing for it to not be the way it was turning out. The diary entries matched the date of his grandfather’s death. The pieces were joining. More and more was coming together. The diary ending, his grandfather’s death, and his own birthday - all had been on exactly the same date.

_…What if it isn’t? What else could my dad have lied to me about?_

Immediately, he flicked back to the folder page with his own birth certificate. He read it, once and twice. He shook his head as he realised the match in the details.

_It’s not a lie. It really is September 25th, 1987. My actual birthday. I’m not imagining things. I really was born that day, at 14:40 exactly…_

_Wait._

Fourteen-forty, fourteen-forty, he repeated in his head, trying to keep the time secure. He turned back to the death certificate, looking for the detail he needed.

“No way,” he gasped, shaking his head. “This can’t have happened.”

His hands shook as he said it out loud, trying to stomach the facts he had just seen down on paper. It was barely possible; unlikely, insane, he kept on repeating, but it was right there on paper, exactly and perfectly, so perfect it frightened him down to the core.

Even Judai seemed to be on edge, and he had barely been able to look at the detail Shou had spotted on his own certificate.

“You were born _on the day that he died?”_

“Not just that. The certificate says I was born at 14:40.”

“And?”

“My grandfather died at 14:35.”

Was it a coincidence? Destiny? Some kind of setup? The thoughts spun around in Shou’s head, confusing him and pulling his mind in all directions. These were things his father had avoided at all costs. Not even his mother - and even if she was distant, she was a caring mother - had told him the truth, or even mentioned a morsel of it. When he had tried to ask her years ago, she had only put her hands on his shoulders, and told him that it was not the time to be talking about the past.

In his family, the past was a curse. It was all coming together. 

It was all that Shou could think of - the mess of his parents’ avoidances, his father’s burning hand on his wrist that one frightening evening; Ryou looking at him down the corridor and saying nothing, knowing he could not stop him from making his own stupid mistakes.

_How did it happen? He died of a heart attack, didn’t he? Dad said he had…_

He had to read further. 

He went on, further down, re-reading each detail until he was sure that he was seeing it right. The occupation was as he had expected; he had been a shopkeeper, and that meant bound to Amaruya, as his son became after him, and as Shou had already begun marking himself out to be. It was unfortunate, he thought; that he had died when he could have lived for as long as old man Kagemaru, that he could have lived with his grandsons, that he could have been remembered and loved by more and more people…

Shou had never met Marufuji Satoru, but it did not stop the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them with the back of his hand, not wanting them to drop anywhere.

“Are you all right?” He heard Judai ask him, reaching over to wrap an arm around from behind. He jerked, unused to the contact.

“I’m all right. Don’t worry,” he half-sobbed. It wasn’t the truth.Why did it hurt so much, to be reading about someone he had never met, and would never know beyond a few pieces of paper? The more he found himself staring at the page, the more the image of the Ryou-like boy in the photograph seemed to burn into his brain. It was as if he had been alive, just for an instant, infinitely staring and staring.

He came to another box on the form. He struggled to read it. His throat dried almost immediately. Shou felt his stomach turn.

“No.”

This time, it was not miscomprehension. He was not hallucinating this time, or unsure if what he was seeing was real. The page was real, as was the ink on the paper.

What he had been told for years was _not_ real.

“No.” He shook his head, reading over and over. _“No.”_

“Shou?”

Even Judai’s voice, as soft and unusual as it was in this state, was not enough. He could not stop his restless heart beating. He could not stop his breaths speeding up, losing pace and then freezing. He could do nothing about the things he was seeing.

There was no way to change the past. It had all happened, even if Shou wished and pleaded that what he was reading was not real.

“There was a lie. My grandfather didn’t die of a heart attack. Not… not like that,” he cried out. He needed to be held, even if it was awkward and in the arms of a friend. Judai leaned in against him, across the armrest of his chair, but the warmth he spread was not enough, not to stave off the truth.

“What happened?”

“It says here that he died of an overdose. Painkillers. Judai, he _killed himself.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it.
> 
> ...Leave a comment? I'd love to hear any theories you guys have going. What went on, really? What happened in the past, and how is it affecting the present? Are cycles of history real?
> 
> One can only imagine.


	13. Ch. 12

_** chapter twelve. ** _

A week passed.

When the weekend came, there was only one thought on Shou’s mind - to go back into the attic, in search of more diaries. In the meagre few hours he and Judai ended up getting, all they found inside of it was dust and old trash. There was nothing of use, not even the box containing the old ice-cream maker they had started to search for. The taste of disappointment stayed strong in both his mouth and Judai’s for days. Why there was nothing more there, neither could tell.

In the end, both of them gave up on the ice-cream maker. When he had plucked up the courage to finally ask his mother about it, she could not remember it either.

The next few days after were desperate. Judai and he had run out of ideas. Not knowing anything else, the weekdays were filled with back-and-forth messages, and the forging of patchworks of plans.

They would make Kagemaru talk on Saturday.

Shou knew he had been lucky that day. He had managed to keep himself stable after seeing the certificate - proof his father had lied, and not lied, both at once.

He and Judai had gotten out of the room just in time, only minutes before his father had come home.

The look the older man had given Judai had been an empty one. He had neither scorned Shou for his choice of friend, nor approved him. It was for the best, Shou knew. He did not want to risk his father asking too many questions. A few choice words, carefully planted, would reveal all of their secrets.

The fear of losing it all was still there.

The following Saturday was the first weekend of June. Summer really had been on the doorstep in the weeks past; Shou had felt the pollen in the air and remembered his allergies after spending far too long sneezing. The morning was warmer. The streets were noisier with passers-by on the Yanaka streets. A couple of children, one with a ball in hand, ran right past Amaruya, arms out like planes.

With the usual box of tea in his arms, Shou left the shop, giving his father one last glance and a shout to say that he was off. He heard nothing back, save for what sounded like cursing.

Turning around, he saw that his father had paid him no attention at all. All of it was fixed on the ground. His father was staring, kicking the spot where he had been sweeping.

“God damn it,” Shou heard him mumble. “Still can’t get this shit out of the ground.”

“What is it?”

“Fucking _kids._ Those bastards really did a number on us. It’s not coming out. Should have called the cops on them the morning it happened.”

Shou looked down. The part he was trying to clean did not look any different from the rest of the path. If the char-mark from the fire he had been moaning about had been there weeks ago, then it had long since faded away. He had either scrubbed it out, or the rain had washed it away. Nothing was left.

“Dad? I don’t see it.”

“Well, _I_ goddamn see it, and I’m going to get it out.”

His father scowled in his direction, before going back to the floor yet again. Shou shrugged. There would be no opposing his father. He would sweep and scrub at the path as much as it pleased him, no matter who told him to stop. Shou could count the number of times his father had obeyed a word of his mother’s on his fingers.

Why she was distant, he knew, and it did not take effort to understand.

He did not have time to loiter, and so on he went. His plans would be different today - just a little, enough to make things work out. He would not be alone.

As soon as he had turned the corner, leaving his father behind, he put the box of tea down and fished his phone out of his pocket. Looking around, he pressed a few buttons and waited.

There were a few tones. Then, a voice. “Hello?”

“Judai, I’ve got it. Are you coming?”

“Yeah. You got the papers?”

“Yes.”

“We’re meeting by the temple, right?”

“Yeah. Which one?”

“…You know, the one near the graveyard, side closest to you?”

Shou sighed. “There’s a few…”

“Eh, you know which one. See you!”

The line dropped. With a sigh - in any other town but Yanaka, Judai’s instructions would have been far clearer - he put the phone away, gathering his box again. He gave it a shake, just to check that all was intact. The sound was right. He continued.

He remembered the temple in question quickly. It was not difficult for him - he had spent his life in Yanaka, and had learned the streets, wide and narrow, inside out. He knew the names of every temple and shrine. When the odd tourist would come into Amaruya, just off the beaten track, he would advise them on where to go, or where they needed to be. Sometimes, he would let them sample some of the shop’s personal blends, and ensure they went away with a bag’s worth, and left him happily paid. It was what his father had taught him - to be good to customers, and they would be good to him in exchange.

He could not help but wonder if that attitude was the same at Miracle Fusion. Somehow, the place had felt much more relaxed. Its workers wore smiles, save for Manjoume, when he was away from the counter.

Manjoume and Misawa were settling. That was what Judai had told him, a few days ago, after a tiring but quiet afternoon shift. There had no more fights in the staff room, and even Eri had been praising them for their teamwork. Judai had laughed at the whole thing. He had seen the two of them still scowling across the counter.

_Say, you think they’re just faking?_ Judai had asked him in a message one evening. Shou had only sent back a weak, _I don’t know._ For all he knew - and he did not know them like Judai, their co-worker, did - they were at relative peace, and it didn’t matter if it was temporary or for good. The fighting was over. Both kept their jobs at the cafe.

Still, it was not something he had been thinking about. For weeks, most of his thoughts had concerned the mysterious diary, and the photographs, and as of a week ago, the death certificate branded with _suicide._

The longer he thought of it, the worse it made him feel. Judai had told him to relax. He could share any thoughts he had been having. It had been some relief to talk, he admitted, even if it embarrassed him still to let Judai know how much he worried over trivial matters.

There was only one way, and that way was forward, he reminded himself. This time, he would get the answers he needed.

He peered inside the box he carried as he walked on, one large brown paper envelope sticking out between bags of tea leaves.

The envelope would be the key.

It did not take long before he reached the temple Judai had spoken of. His friend waved, running up to him and offering to take the box off his hands. Wanting some rest, he gave it to him, and led on, just like the first time; his small grumblings about Judai’s vague directions were lost on the early summer breeze.

Judai walked with a spring in his step. Whether that was because he had gotten the day off from work, or because of anticipation, Shou could not tell, but it still brought a smile to his face. Judai’s moods had been spreading to him like a contagion. The past few weeks of their friendship had been like nothing else Shou had known, even before Ryou had left, and before high school itself.

Being by his side was a breath of fresh summer air.

It was not far to the House from there on. The weather was pleasant enough for both strolling and running. Left and right, they saw people, old and young, wandering through the streets of the district. There were young people and adults, joggers and middle-aged businessmen on their days off with their wives and children and dogs. The blossoms had gone, replaced by vivid green leaves. Even the cemetery was alive with green plants and lazy, wandering cats.

Mizuchi greeted them both at the House’s door, having opened the gate herself. She had most likely not expected Judai, but smiled back nonetheless, showing both him and Shou himself in.

The office had not changed much since the last time Shou had visited. Its walls were still plain, save for the couple of frames. There were papers and ornate mirrors on the desk and around it, as always. Mizuchi’s Worcester cups were clean and ready for tea.

Once he and Judai had left the tea, the coast was clear. The decision was theirs.

“So, how are we going to do it?” Judai was the one who asked first, having grabbed the envelope out of the box before Mizuchi could see it.

“…Somehow. I think.”

“You think we should just march in and shove these in his face?”

“Er, well…” Shou hesitated, trying to work out a plan. It would not be as easy as Judai had made things out to be. How Kagemaru would react, no matter what, he could not tell. Both what they had in the envelope and Judai’s presence in itself could be enough - or they might not, he worried. He sighed, trying hard to keep hope.

“I was joking,” Judai replied fast.

“I guessed,” Shou said. “But I think we should keep it back for now. Just for a little bit.”

As soon as they had worked something out - even just the bare bones of the plan, they needed all the time they could get - Judai slid the envelope under his arm, and went back for his shoes. Shou followed. He could only hope that it would work out.

Once they were both by the garden door, shoes on, he took a deep breath. This was it. Looking at Judai, he could see no faltering, nor any sign of worry on his face. How he could stay confident, he could only guess.

Outside were the elders, as always, Tome-san waving. Shou went on. Judai came up behind him, eliciting another shout from the nurse.

“Judai-kun! We missed you here - right?”

By her side, Samejima nodded. What he said back to Judai, Shou did not hear, but it sounded just as happy as the nurse next to him with the wide smile.

Judai could not get away - and perhaps did not want to - as Tome ruffled his hair, much like Shou knew she did with his own on most visits. He laughed along with Judai as he answered to Tome’s clamour around him, telling her all about all that had happened since he had last set foot in the House. It was tempting to join in, Shou knew - but he could not. While Judai kept Tome and Samejima’s attention, he looked around. He had to find old man Kagemaru.

His heart stopped for a second as he finally saw him. He was alone again. Sheltering under one of the trees - now no longer pink with blossoms - he was not talking to anyone, but he did not look asleep either. It was as if the old man had been frozen, leaving him staring at nothing and no-one, alone in a world of his own.

_Had my grandfather been like that, just as lonely without the people he loved?_

All he had known of Kagemaru’s past was that he had once been a doctor, then turned to teaching. Who his family were, nobody at the House seemed to know. Even Tome had nothing to say on the matter. Once, Shou had asked her, and she had only shaken her head.

Judai glanced over to him, just for a second, but that was enough. Shou gestured to him to come over, and he did, apologising to Tome and Samejima before pulling the envelope out from under his arm. It was a miracle that it had not crumpled under the crush of one of Tome’s hugs.

“He’s over there. Let’s go.”

Some part of him hoped the old man would not notice. Even the sight of him would be enough, he feared, to put Kagemaru into a mood. Judai could make it either better or worse.

They stopped only a few metres away, as soon as Kagemaru raised his head and turned it towards them. He had most likely already heard enough noise. His brows were furrowed as ever.

“Kagemaru-san,” Shou called the old man by name. He swallowed. The time had finally come. 

The old man turned, his frown as clear as crystal. His brows were furrowed, even before Shou had asked him anything. The sight made him wish he had not asked at all.

“Hmph… What now? Have you come back to pester me?”

Shou felt his throat freeze up. Suddenly, it felt hard to speak - but Judai stepped forward, taking the words he could not say out loud and saying them himself, as if he had been reading his mind.

“Actually, yes. That’s what we’re here for.”

“If that’s all you’re here for, then I have nothing to say about that.”

“You know about my grandfather, don’t you?” Shou interrogated, trying to fight back the heaviness pressing down in his chest. His heart began to speed up. The sick feeling he had known, over and over, resurfaced. Fighting it, he stood on, knowing that everything rested on this, on himself and Judai, and on what they would make Kagemaru confess to.

The old man let out a grunt, shaking his head. “…And what is it to you?”

“He’s my family. Dad won’t talk about him, and neither will Mom. Something happened to him.”

“Everything happens to somebody. Now leave me alone about it.”

“Not until you tell us what you know about him.” Judai charged in. “If you won’t tell Shou, then tell me instead.”

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing to say - “

“He killed himself. Did you know that?”

There was silence.

The old man’s lips froze, just agape. Whatever he had wanted to say back, he could no longer say. Shou felt himself freeze, too, at the sight. For a few heartbeats, he wished he could go back and stop himself blurting it out, but it was too late. He had said it too suddenly - badly, he knew, terribly…

“What did you say?” Kagemaru croaked out, after the dreadful moment of silence. “Don’t tell me lies. I get enough of those from the doctors.”

“He did. I saw his death certificate.” Shou stated. There was no going back now.

“Don’t make things up.”

“I… I can prove it. I have it.”

He turned around. Judai took the brown envelope from under his arm and passed it to him with a nod. Shou did the same. His hands, unsteadily, fumbled around, before pulling out one of the papers in the envelope. In the light, he unfolded it and checked that he had taken the right thing.

The photocopy they had made of the certificate shook in the breeze, and so did the hand holding it.

Kagemaru’s eyes travelled up to the sheet. “Give that to me.”

Swallowing, Shou obliged. His hand trembled as he passed it to him, as if he was feeding a beast. With strength that he did not know Kagemaru had left in him, the paper was snatched out of his grip. The old man grunted. Bespectacled eyes slowly moved, side to side and down as he read. Watching him felt like standing on the very edge of a cliff.

Finally, Kagemaru looked up. One finger pointed at the paper, as if critiquing an amateur’s work. “You forged this.”

Shou was about to object, but Judai did it first. “Hey, Shou didn’t forge anything!”

“What do you call this, then?”

“It’s not the only thing. We have his diary.”

Before Shou could stop him, Judai had already taken the book out of the large envelope. The number on the cover gleamed under the sun, dappled darker by the shadow of the tree above the three of them. He reached over, bringing it close enough for Kagemaru to take - but as soon as the man was about to take it, he pulled it away.

“Nope. You’ve got to promise not to damage it first. Whether you believe us or not.”

Kagemaru sighed. “Fine. Now pass that.”

Judai did not give it back to him straight away. Instead, he cracked it open and flicked through. Even without him saying anything, Shou could already guess what he was trying to find.

Once the page had been settled on, Judai passed it to Kagemaru, open at the one branded September 25th, 1987. “Here. That’s the last one. You can read the ones before it, but tell us if there’s something we haven’t found.”

Shou nodded. He had said exactly what he had wanted to say. He made a mental note to thank Judai later with whatever he wanted; he would never had been able to do it alone. What he lacked in confidence, Judai seemed to have in spades. Never had he been so thankful for having him be by his side.

There were a few more page turns, both forward and back. Shou swore he had heard Kagemaru mumbling under his breath, though what, he could not be certain. He could only hope that the old man had believed what he and Judai had found - and if he did not, that he would correct their mistake. He had known at least something from the very start - it was clear now, too clear - and Shou felt his heart leap at the thought of finally knowing the truth.

The old man’s voice rose, and Shou heard it quiver, uncertainly so. His head shook as he read and re-read pages and passages. Shou could taste the disbelief in his tone, but it was far from certain this time.

“God damn it. _This._ All of it…”

“It’s exactly what you think it is,” Judai added. “Look back if you want. It makes sense. I mean, there’s even a motive. Forgetting something. Seems a bit of a coincidence that he had some random heart attack, right?”

“…And… you’re saying this is all _real?”_

This time, Shou took the initiative. “I’m sure,” he said. “I’m sure it was his diary. It ended on the day he died, just before I was born. And he killed himself. I don’t know if that’s what you knew. You said history was repeating itself. Was that what you were talking about?”

He swallowed, taking a deep breath in. It was time to confess, out loud and once and for all.

“I overheard you. You said that history was going to repeat itself after I came here with Judai. And then, I found this. Was _that_ what you meant?”

He did not want to say it out loud. It would be obvious enough, he hoped - enough for the old man to see in his eyes that he was scared of death, of falling into the same pit as his grandfather before him, of being alone and forgetting. He did not want to die, by his own hand, or by anyone else’s. He did not want that past to repeat - but whether it was this that Kagemaru had spoken of, or something else, he did not know.

The secret was out. There was nowhere Kagemaru could go. Reality was in his hands - and as Shou looked on at him, he could see the book in his hands shaking.

“…oh, Gods in heaven above…”

“Kagemaru-san?”

“I… I don’t want this to be true. But it doesn’t feel like a lie either…”

He came forward to reach for his shoulder, hoping it would calm the man down. Under his touch, he was still far from steady. Shou swore he heard a sob rack through his body.

“This,” he continued, voice sinking. “ _God damn it._ Satoru. Hideo, that _bastard…_ God damn it. God damn it.”

“Wait, did you know?” Judai interrupted, reaching back for the book.

“No. I… I didn’t.” Kagemaru’s eyes squeezed shut, as if fending off a bad headache. “When Hideo came here, he told us Satoru had died of a heart attack. Satoru hadn’t been here for months. Hideo said he had been ill all that time, and then his heart just gave up on him.” 

He was struggling, Shou knew. His form was still shaky, as much mentally as physically. Still, he was able to reach, and Judai took back the diary, holding it tight in his hands like a treasure.

“Oh, God. So, my father lied to all of you, too…”

“He must have lied. I remember him looking terrible the last time he came to visit, but I didn’t know it was _that bad…”_

Even if the act had not been his, he could not help but feel bad. He tried to turn away, as if to bearing his father’s guilt. The feeling of Judai’s hand on his shoulder, just as his own had been resting on Kagemaru’s, stopped him going any further. He swallowed. Even if he had done nothing, he still needed to stay.

Judai was the one who continued for him. “So, you said the past was repeating itself. You didn’t mean the suicide?”

“No. I didn’t mean that. I had no idea that he… _killed himself._ And I, I… I never want to see that happen to anyone. Other things. Other things…”

“Other things?” Shou’s eyes widened.

“There’s more to the past than one part of it, and I had something else on my mind. I just didn’t know. None of us did. Nobody knows everything. God damn it. Maybe I was wrong.”

“But you said there was something.”

“…It looks like I’ll be here a while.”

“I’m sorry - “

“No. Damn it, the secret’s come out now. And… some things not even I knew, it turns out. I guess you two have won the battle this time.” Kagemaru let out a sigh, shuffling around in his wheelchair. He groaned, muscles most likely stiff. His mood was not as bad as it had been before, but the man was more… _shaken,_ Shou thought, more on edge than before, and he still felt a strange pang of guilt for confessing.

“I’ll tell you what I know. What I knew of before today. But you’d better keep it quiet for now. If that bastard Hideo’s pulled the wool over all of our eyes, then he’s best off with a taste of his own medicine. Come on. Better get us to somewhere you can sit. You’ll be here a while.”

Shou could only hope it would not be too long; he did not want his father snapping at him. His heart was at odds with his head. It wanted to stay, more than anything. He wanted to know everything, every small detail, from the story of the photographs to what some stranger parts of the diary had meant; things he and Judai had looked over and questioned. If Kagemaru was not able to help them, he did not know who would. There were only a few local-raised people left at the House of Flowers, and Kagemaru was the only one he was certain about.

Never had the old man talked about his past - but the way his eyes had widened and his lips had frozen in place at the sight of the book and the certificate, Shou could not help but think that he had known his grandfather more than the average resident of the House.

They reached the closest bench, and Kagemaru moved his chair as close as he could to one end. Not wanting to be rude, Shou stayed back until the man settled, and then took a seat. Judai followed, taking his place by his side, leaning forward to listen.

“So, where to begin…” Kagemaru muttered, eyes dragging up to the sky as he thought.

“About Grandfather,” Shou said. It was all that he had been wondering about since the book had fallen into his hands. “And, hold on. The people in the photographs. Can you tell us about them?”

There was another shuffling sound, and with a nudge of Shou’s side, the photographs were taken out of the envelope. To Shou’s relief, they had not been crumpled, even with the thicker book in the same space. He passed them into Kagemaru’s hold, and the old man passed back the diary. Shou took it and settled it on his lap, his hands clutching at it for some sense of security.

“All right,” he said as he adjusted his glasses. He looked down, eyes sweeping over the faces on the image, the three men staring right back. “God damn it, I’m getting so old. Seems like not long ago they were like that…”

“So, you knew them?” Judai interrupted.

Kagemaru nodded. “I did. This is way back… That one on the left, Shou - that’s Marufuji Satoru. Your grandfather.”

Shou’s heart skipped a beat. He had been right. “Who are the other people?”

“I’ll get to those in a second. That man there - you see him, in the centre? That man is Amamiya Kenjiro. He was the master of Amaruya back in the day.”

_Amamiya._ It was the name on the back that had been haunting him for weeks on end. _Amamiya and family._ Suddenly, it was starting to make sense in his head - even if some of what his father had said no longer appeared to match.

“Dad told me it was always our family running the place.”

“Then you were born in a sad time indeed.” Kagemaru shook his head with sorrow. “I might as well tell you. Your family has long since been tied to that tea shop, you see, but you didn’t own it - not for a long time. Not until your grandfather. The ones who owned it were those named Amamiya. But, you Marufuji were so closely tied to them, and the business, that you might as well been kin.”

“Who’s the other boy, then?” Judai interrupted.

“Ah, him. That would be the heir of Amaruya. Amamiya Tarou, born a month before your grandfather, and seven years after me. Your grandfather was raised in their house, and I grew up seeing both of them, always together, as expected of those who would one day work that tea shop together. It’s that old family partnership that gave Amaruya its name. Amaruya is _Amaruya_ for a reason.”

“Wait, so… it’s a _pun?”_

“Not far from that, yes.”

Shou cringed, hearing Judai holding back laughter. For a long time, he himself had wondered what the shop’s name had referred to. Now that he knew, it seemed far less mystical, far less dynamic than he had imagined.

The old man let out a low chuckle. “You know of the _bakeneko_ blood legend?”

“I know of the creatures, but… there’s a _legend?”_

“A small one, quite local. There used to be talk in Yanaka when I was a boy that your ancestors had come out of nowhere, with noses for tea and fingers for sifting through leaves. Your grandfather used to joke that you lot had a _bakeneko_ for an ancestor.”

_“Bakeneko?_ As in, a cat demon?” Judai asked, wondering.

Shou’s eyes widened with fear. 

The old man let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing more than a legend, even in Yanaka. But that’s what they said about your family. Even if they really were _yokai_ , the Amamiya trusted the Marufuji, and that was enough for the rest of Yanaka’s people.”

Shou swallowed, glancing over at Judai. He did not appear scared, and he let out a sigh of relief. He had always been scared of the paranormal. Being actually descended from a monster would have left him terrified of himself, down to the core - but it was only a story, he reminded himself. There would be nothing to it.

At the same time, he could not help but shiver, recalling the frightening coincidence that was the death of his grandfather and his own birth, only five minutes later.

Kagemaru continued. “Your grandfather grew up as an apprentice to the Amamiya, and those two were close. _Close,_ indeed… But there was someone else, too.”

“Hm?”

“You’ll see. She’s in the other picture.”

“Oh! The girl, right?” Judai exclaimed, peering further over Shou’s shoulder to see the photographs in Kagemaru’s hands as he shuffled them backward and forth.

“Indeed. Sweet Adelheid. That’s her,” he said, pointing at the girl in the centre of the family photograph. Sighing, as if hiding some kind of desire lost to the decades, he traced the outline of her jaw, and the bright smile on her face. “Her family were from Germany. Her father had some kind of business over in Ueno, and he had a house built right here. You might recognise it.”

Shou sat still for a few seconds, trying to think. None of the houses in the area had stood out much. How much they had changed in the years since the family had lived there? Had one of them been theirs once, only for that past to be forgotten?

“You still haven’t realised? _Blumenhaus_ isn’t exactly a Japanese term. That’s how it got its name.” 

_Blumenhaus._ _The House of Flowers._

“No way…”

Now that he had had time to process, it was all making sense - and it made him a little embarrassed, realising that he had forgotten. The German name was used less and less these days, and he had become used to calling it its translated title, or simply ‘the House’. His father and neighbours, and most of the locals had taken to calling it that, the original word simply breaking apart and sounding alien on Japanese tongues.

“They lived here for almost twenty years. First came her father - you see him? That’s him. And then, a couple of years later, he brought his wife over, and she brought that pretty child.”

“And… she was friends with my grandfather?”

_“Inseparable friends._ Her, your grandfather and Amamiya.” For a moment, it was as if some old spark had come back into Kagemaru’s elderly eyes. His sighs, eyes fixed on the image of the girl and her parents, felt heavy with reminiscence and light with the memories of joy lost in the past. “It was always the three of them. I swear they were joined at the hip. They grew up together. Young love indeed…”

Shou’s heart skipped a beat at the mention. He repeated it. _“Love?”_

Kagemaru gave a nod. “I heard that Amamiya-kun wanted to marry sweet Adelheid.”

“What about my grandfather? Satoru?” Shou chimed, wondering where his grandfather fit in.

“They were all friends. I remember him staying with them. Even if those two would one day marry, he was willing to follow them. The way sweet Adelheid clung to him sometimes…”

“Oh.”

“Still, I remember. Those were fine days. Your grandfather was happy. Amamiya-kun and Adelheid were always there. I even envied their friendship a little. That was their youth, and my innocent time. Then came the war.”

The old man coughed, his voice still carrying over the hoarseness. Shou could not help but feel uneasy, seeing him calling back to what had to be far more terrible memories. The look in his eyes was unsettled, and for a second, he swore he had seen the man bite his lip as he prepared to speak of the past once again.

“I was a young doctor then, fresh out of learning. They sent me to Formosa. It was a terrible time. You know this?” One bony arm swept down from his lap, patting his right leg, just below the knee. “One of my own men gave me that leg. He wasn’t much more than a boy. War got to him. Lost his mind, shot me and a few others, then turned the gun on himself. And I was one of the lucky ones. How your grandfather and Amamiya-kun fared, I didn’t see for myself… but I saw them when they came home from the navy. Both of them, broken and weary. _Not children,_ not any more.”

Shou almost wanted to tell him to stop. The pain in Kagemaru’s eyes was clear, more so than whatever had happened to his leg. He did not want to see the old man cry. The memories were painful, unwanted - but they were the truth, he knew, and the truth would one day be uncovered regardless. Hiding it would never make the pain go away.

He wanted to hear more. It hurt to watch Kagemaru unravel like this, and he felt guilt tug at his insides for wishing that he would not stop telling him everything that he remembered.

“What about Adelheid?”

“They weren’t there. Her family was gone by the time I came back from hospital. I heard their business collapsed over here, but… where they went, I don’t know. Nobody did. The only place we knew of was where the family came from, and that was in Germany.”

The name did not ring a bell to Shou, or to Judai either, judging from the still look on his face. To Kagemaru, it brought another sorrowful shake of the head.

_“Germany._ That was all we knew about them. The Americans in Ueno told me the rest of it. If Adelheid’s family went back there, then I don’t know what they had to go back to… if they _could_ have even gone back there. If they could _bear to,_ after all that happened to _their kind._ Maybe Switzerland, but I just don’t know… I don’t know at all…”

He huffed, tired and weary of remembering, but going on nonetheless.

“You see, we’re fortunate here in Yanaka. Tokyo burned, and yet our old Yanaka lived through the nights and the days. Amamiya-kun lost his father in the war. One day’s trip to the south, and the gods gave him peace to be with his wife.”

Now, it was Shou’s turn to dip his head, trying hard not to think of death. He did not want to cry.

He could think of nothing to say. He could not imagine how terrible the loss must have been. He was fortunate, to be living in peace, with both parents alive and in the same house. Even if Ryou was gone, and even if his father was far from kind sometimes, they were family still. They were alive. Those who had once been in his place had lost everything.

It would be strange to return to Amaruya and pass through the corridors, opening windows and doors and knowing who exactly had laid their hands on them before, and whose feet had padded on the old floors. He had known for a long time that the tea shop and lodgings above it were old and weathered with age, but to have the faces and names of his predecessors, for once, was an unfamiliar feeling.

“They had to go on, believe me on that,” Kagemaru continued. “Amaruya was theirs then. Adelheid was gone, taken from them by unfair fate, but… the shop was still theirs. Believe me, they would not let that place die. That place was dusted off, and they brought it back to life. They went back to tea, like it had been from the beginning… but they added their own touch. Ah, I remember the melonpan.”

_“Melonpan?”_ Shou’s eyes widened. He remembered the word for more than just the name of a sweet bread. It was familiar. “I think the diary mentioned that. Did they make it?”

_Nothing like yours,_ the diary had said, speaking of the bread from Asakusa. Never had the book said for whom it had been written, but the more Shou heard, the closer he came to the conclusion.

“Made it, and sold it too. I don’t know who came up with the idea of selling bread at a tea shop, but it was a damn good idea, and damn good bread too. Never tasted anything exactly like it. Even what they baked in Asakusa had nothing on the stuff your grandfather and Amamiya could make together.”

“Must have been good, then,” Judai said, licking his lips.

“Good? Psh. _Good_ is too weak a word for the memory. I remember it still, after such a long time.”

Shou looked on, wishing he, too, could remember the taste of something so unfamiliar. The thought that the melonpan was gone, as was his grandfather, made his stomach ache with emptiness. Amaruya’s premises had not changed much, and the shop still carried with it the scent of a hundred herbs and teas. What had disappeared had been the very thing Amamiya Tarou had brought in, that sounded so out of place but had felt so perfectly right.

“But… that stopped.”

“You’re right. Your father never seemed to take a shine to bread, but even before he took over, the baking was already finished. It stopped when Amamiya-kun died.”

There was silence. Only the breeze made a sound. Only breaths came for lungs - save for the careless birds that sang in the trees and the faint chatter in other parts of the garden. 

“It was a bad fever, almost the same thing as what killed his dear mother back in her day. I swear, death was stalking out that one.” Kagemaru’s eyes took on the dark sheen again, as if holding back bitter tears. 

Looking at him, his wrinkles deepened and neck bent down towards his shaking hands and the photographs he held, was like watching a man die, slowly and painfully. A chill sent shivers down Shou’s spine, and for a second, it was as if something otherworldly was touching his neck.

He let out a shiver. Talking of death left him feeling terrible, down to the bone.

“Your grandfather had a wife, but… I think he was much happier after she died. When she did, all that he had was his son - your father, Hideo. I don’t think he had the guts to carry on baking. And… he didn’t just lose a _partner_. Tarou’s death ended the Amamiya family, and his will passed on everything to your grandfather.”

“…Did he not have children?” Judai asked.

“No. He never married. I don’t think he had it in him.”

“After he lost Adelheid?”

“That might have been it. Or at least part of it. But,” Kagemaru looked up, unexpectedly so. With damp eyes, he tried to put on a smile. Ever so subtly, as much as he could manage, the corners of his mouth came up into a curve. “Even after she left us, he lived on for a long time. He gave so much to Amaruya that I am surprised that your father managed to take so much out of your knowledge and memory. Maybe, deep down, Amamiya Tarou already considered himself married.”

“What do you mean?”

“To Amaruya, and to your grandfather,” he said, turning to face Shou. Their eyes met, and Shou swallowed, feeling the weight of legacy being handed to him. “That was all that he had after the war. I remember, when they were alive, the two of them used to come down here sometimes. Satoru was the one who first planted the flowers outside, and Amamiya-kun gave it the name. Just a few words Adelheid taught him.”

“Really?”

“Really. After the war, they planted the first flowers. When those flowers died, the staff working here planted new ones. They turned this place into a home for the injured, and then for the old folks like us. That’s how it ended up. All of these flower beds. One of them started out as Adelheid’s grave.”

“But - didn’t she - “

“Her grave _in Japan._ It was the closest thing to one we could have. I don’t know where they’ve buried her, in what land. She’s dead _now,_ I’m sure of it. Your grandfather used to come here, even after Amamiya-kun died. He told me nothing compared to the smiles he and Tarou had made in the past.”

_Smiles._

Even if the old man was in pain - and he had to be, Shou thought, having been forced to remember what did not make him happy to think of - he was fighting that pain, smiling back at him and gazing point-blank into his eyes. He could not help but wonder whose eyes Kagemaru was seeing, his own, or those of his grandfather, of Marufuji Satoru.

“So he kept on coming here?”

“Indeed. He came here to see the House, and the flowers. I remember the last time. He brought in those photographs. He showed them to me, and told me he was forgetting their names.”

_Just like in the diary…_

“When was that?”

“I don’t remember the day. I remember it being spring. The flowers were out. He looked like a dead man on earth, holding these photographs. I didn’t understand at the time how he felt. Now that I know, and it pains me…” Kagemaru swallowed, “I think it shouldn’t have been a surprise to me that he ended his life.”

Something deep in Shou’s heart stung.

His grandfather had been in pain. For years, he had been tending to a makeshift grave, one that probably made him hurt more than anything, first with a partner and then on his own.

“…When did Amamiya-san die, then?”

Kagemaru sighed. “Twenty-five years ago. More than that, actually.”

Suddenly, seventeen years did not seem so great in Shou’s eyes.Next to him, Judai was still leaning forward, hands fidgeting on the edge of the bench. What was urging him on, he could not tell.

Shou himself had nothing to say. What was there to do? He could not console Kagemaru. The past was dead and gone, just like the old man had said weeks ago. There would be no bringing it back. The people he had told of had long since become ashes and dust in the ground.

“…Thank you.”

“Hm?”

“For telling me this. I wanted to know. And… you told me. I’m sorry you had to remember it.”

It brought a bitter taste to his tongue. He had probably hurt Kagemaru. He had not expected such a sad story, one that had almost made the elder shed tears. His chest pounded, head aching. It was still hard to believe - and harder to stomach. All of these things had been kept secret from him. In the rush of a few weeks, after the emptiness that was seventeen years of silence, so much had suddenly come to light.

If it would force him to be sick, then it was what he deserved. He had known nothing.

He could only sit there, saying nothing, head still caught in a tangle of memories. Judai, just as still,sat keeping him warm in the cool of what did not feel like summer, not any more. What Judai was thinking of, he could not tell; and he did not ask. He did not think of anything but his grandfather and the people the man had had torn away from him - and he did not look up until Mizuchi nudged his shoulder, looking on from behind.

Shou almost screamed in surprise. Even Kagemaru was forced into chuckling by the confused look on his face. Judai burst into laughter out loud, stark against the sick silence of the minutes before.

Tea in Mizuchi’s office did not take long this time. How long Shou had spent out in the garden, he did not realise until she led the way in and showed Judai and him back to the familiar chairs by her desk. The tea was warm and sweet like always. Judai’s face turned out the opposite, comically bitter at the sight of something that was not coffee in his cup.

Time flew.

It was only as Shou and Judai walked back from the House, eyes on the sky and streets, trying not to think back to Kagemaru’s revelation - just wanting to breathe - that the proposition came out.

“Shou?”

Hearing his name, Shou turned around. By his side but eager to bound on ahead, Judai turned to face him. “Listen, this is going to sound nuts.”

“…Yes?”

“Mizuchi. She said about the House closing down.”

Shou gulped. He had forgotten to tell Judai the week before. He could not remember the original plan, but Mizuchi had told him in her office regardless. Even if he did not know the place as well as Shou did, he was important. He was a friend, and local enough to be told.

_It won’t be a secret for long,_ Mizuchi had said, forehead resting on her palm and eyes fixed on the ripples of cooling tea in her cup. _You might as well be aware._

“They want to do the petition, and then something for the September festival. But it has to be something special, right?”

“Yeah,” Shou said, the reminder filling his chest with a heaviness. His head dipped down, and he did not see the spark in Judai’s eyes as it appeared. 

“Here’s the thing. I know it’s _repeating_ history, but… _wait,_ I think that’s actually what might be it. Why don’t we repeat history, but do it on purpose?”

_“…What?”_

Shou stopped abruptly, his shout loud enough to make Judai flinch and do the same thing. He looked on, eyes were wide and mouth just open. Startled, his eyebrows raised in surprise. After they had spent almost an hour listening to Kagemaru speak of the past like a curse, what he was hearing had to be a mistake.

Judai stayed quiet for a few moments. Before Shou could say anything else, he tried to gesture to get him to listen. Sighing, Shou let him talk.

“Listen. This might be a good thing.”

“What do you mean? Don’t you want things to go well? Everyone - well, everything -”

“You might as well have fun as long as you live, then. And we won’t do it exactly. We can do it our way. You’ve got to, you know, take things into your own hands.”

The odd look in his eyes was that of determination. It was a look Shou had never been able to put on for himself. Whatever Judai had thought of, it would be crazy. “What do you mean?”

“We might do this place some good. Just listen up,” said Judai. He took a step closer to him, the sunlight from above catching in his hair and lighting it up like a halo. “It’s just an idea I had. Technically, it’s possible.”

“…What is it?”

“We ought to bring back that melonpan recipe. It’s worth a shot, right?”

Shou could not bring himself to say back a thing. His father would fight against the idea - he already knew it. The whole thing was ridiculous.

What Judai knew was one thing, but he had never baked much. Not even his mother had been much into it, settling for cooking the basics and never anything fancy. Cake was rare in their house, and it was only at Miracle Fusion that he had properly gotten a taste for the treat. It would not be possible.

Still, there was the idea. 

“Judai. You’re _crazy.”_

“I know. But you want to, right?”

“It’s repeating history. It’s going to end badly. You heard what happened.”

“We’re not repeating the bad part.”

_“All of it_ might be the bad part.”

“We don’t have to think of it as bad, though. We can do it our way, and do it better this time. _Right?”_

Shou swallowed. The longer he let the thought stew in his mind, standing there in the middle of the quietened street, the closer he came to the answer. What his head was shouting at him and what the sudden leap in his heart had meant were two different things.

One turned to a whisper, and the other pulled the words out.

“Can we… _actually_ do it?”

“I don’t see why we can’t.”

How early Mizuchi would want the final idea, he could only guess, and he was guessing that there would not be time. Already, summer was starting. Their weeks of vacation would not be until July, and even then, how much time they could put in was only an estimate.

Their choice was their secret - they swore it, out of sight, by the very temple where they had met, only around the corner, before parting ways onto separate paths. As soon as Shou came back to the street where Amaruya stood, he was alone again, with a spring in his step and the drive to get back into the tea shop and serve until evening. 

It was only after he had come home and settled back down to work, still jittery from what he had found out, that he realised he had forgotten to ask Kagemaru why _exactly_ the past repeating itself would be a threat to his and Judai’s friendship, if it was not by death itself.

He would not remember for days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Some music to enjoy post-chapter.](https://youtube.com/watch?v=Du3ph9619Bk)
> 
> Now I can say that the story of the 'eternal trio' is one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever written.
> 
> Please leave a comment on the way out!


	14. Ch. 13

**_ chapter thirteen. _ **

Shou expected his summer vacation to begin with a break: a few days off from work, if his father was kind, and then a return to the usual daily grind of shopkeeping at Amaruya. Some part of him had been looking forward to back-to-back tea business, as strange as it seemed. With summer, he knew, there would be more visitors, more tourists, even to a quieter place like Yanaka, small and old amongst the great silver-glass heights of the city. He looked forward to new faces, new voices, and new pieces of tea-related advice.

Through the walls, he could hear his mother’s faint music, and it somehow amused him. Perhaps, he thought as he changed clothes for his first shift of the holiday, he would find time to start work on something of his own.

What he did not expect, as soon as he came downstairs, work clothes on and hair pinned back with a small heap of clips, was the kicking-down of the sign outside, and then the rustle and thump of a small pile of papers on Amaruya’s front counter.

Judai leaning on it with a proud, self-loving smirk, on the other hand, had never been quite that startling.

“How many do you think we’re going to need?” He said, as if Shou already knew the topic. “Ten? Twenty? I’ve got at least seven.”

“What?”

“Recipes. Spent all of last night looking for things on the internet.” He gave the papers a pat, as if telling Shou to pick them up straight away. “Can’t believe I didn’t fall asleep at the desk.”

“You did,” Shou said, “at school, in first period.”

“Not my fault,” Judai shrugged, “I mean, how the hell can you stay awake on the last day of school before summer vacation when Teach is going on about the conditional?”

“English is hard.”

“Not when you’re fluent.”

Shou cringed. Judai had picked up the habit of sleeping in class whenever English lessons began. For the first few weeks, their teacher had told him off and called him up to answer his questions straight out, before realising that Judai would always have the better of him. In the end, he had let Judai sleep if he was tired, as long as his grades stayed good and every test was passed.

He had yet to fail one.

_Lucky,_ Shou had thought at the sight of his grades. _You already know everything about English. What’s the point of you trying?_

He had been somewhat jealous, until he had heard Judai pleading to him, begging for help on math assignments again. His scores on those had been laughable.

It had been hard to resist laughing, and even Judai had found something funny about it in the end, enough to shrug off the whole thing at first. Nonetheless, he had not let Shou go without getting him to promise to help with the math, in exchange for a few pointers in English and a couple of swears.

English swears had turned into Japanese ones, Shou almost biting his tongue with frustration at his irremovable accent. Judai had laughed until his sides hurt.

Shou sighed at the memory. “So, why all the recipes?”

“Well, we’ve got to start somewhere, right? If we’re going to put one together, might as well test all these out.”

Amongst the documents in the folder where they had found the certificates, and even in the attic, in the boxes they had managed to search through in the past few weeks, there had been no sign of recipes of any kind. There were no more books, nor any more other belongings. Apart from the ugly jar and the small pile of clothes - which had turned out to be only one thing, a well-worn _haori_ feasted on by some moths - nothing else had been found.

Shou looked down at the papers, picking them up and giving them a quick look-over. Every couple of pages was a new recipe, the proportions slightly off in each one. One mentioned fresh milk; the others instructed to use powder. Butter weights varied. The pages seemed to be arguing against one another over what kind of flour to use.

“…How are we even going to go through all these?”

“Simple,” Judai said, snapping his fingers. “We try all of them.”

“Do we even have time?”

“How long do we have? I mean, festival’s not till September, right?”

“We need it perfected before then. I mean, we’ve got to tell Mizuchi soon. If it’s too late she’ll reject the idea,” Shou sighed.

“When do we tell her?”

“Literally, as soon as possible.”

Shou dreaded the thought of it. Committing himself to the recipe in the weeks before September was a step into the unknown. They could not work out their own recipe until they tried a few variations themselves, but Mizuchi needed to know the plan quickly. Without her, they would not have the stall. If they could only bake once a week, they still needed - Shou thought - seven weeks to try all of the recipes. Working out their own take, or trying to replicate what his grandfather had been making, whichever was easier, would take weeks more alone.

The decision had to be made, and it had to be fast.

“Dammit,” Judai groaned. “We’ve got to get to work on this, then. You want to tell her next week?”

“Will we have done anything by next week?”

“We could go through a few of the recipes. At least a couple. Mom’ll probably let us use the back of the cafe, and well, we’ll have time. I mean, it’s summer.”

“I have work,” Shou sighed, shaking his head.

“When are you free, then?”

“Probably Sundays, unless my brother comes home, and I don’t know if he will. That’s it. Unless I ask Dad for time off. But he’ll ask me why I need it.”

He did not want to tell his father the truth. Knowing how he had treated his grandfather and all that the man had meant to the family and the business he had been linked to, he would not be kind about it. Perhaps, his mother could lie - but the thought was a risky one. As much as Shou knew he loved and trusted his mother, the risk was still there. He did not want a word slipping in to his father’s ears.

Shou swallowed. He did not want to have his secret, that he knew of the past, brought out into the open.

His father still knew everything about Ryou. Even if he would scowl at the mention of his oldest son’s name and his life as a student hours away in Kyoto, he was still determined to know every detail. Their mother did not spare the details. If Ryou would be coming back to the city, he would tell her - and by extension, their father, too, would find out. At all costs, they would try not to meet.

He had heard nothing from him for a while, and it pained him, far more than he needed to mention. 

“Unless…” He paused, looking up to the ceiling in thought. Something was coming to him. What his mother would know and the truth did not need to be two different things.

“Unless _what?”_

“Unless I ask if I can bake cake with you. Or just… spend time together, if that’s all right. I don’t have to mention the melonpan.”

It would not be a difficult compromise.

He knew he was a bad liar, painfully so. His father’s sharp demon-eyes saw through him every time, no matter how fickle the lie, and his wrist would sting for far longer, after he was no longer in that gaze. If the lie was small, not far from the truth, it would be easier for him, and his mother would not pass on those tiny details.

_Besides,_ he thought, _if I tell her that I’m helping him bake cake, it might explain any time I come home covered in flour._

He tried to conceal a smile at the thought, and failed.

Judai caught on quickly. “Sure. Well, we don’t have to bake all the time. We could go out and do other stuff. I mean, we’re in Tokyo. I’ve barely had time to look around the entire city.”

“Really?” Shou’s eyes widened, not only with happiness, but with slight surprise. Judai had been in Tokyo for months now. 

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I was born here, so I know some stuff, but I haven’t been back in Tokyo for ten years…”

“Wait, you were born here?” Shou asked, puzzled. “I thought you were born in America.”

He cringed a little as Judai leaned back on the counter, almost perching on it. Some part of him wanted to tell him to move off - to _get the hell off,_ he wanted to say, far from the politeness his father had tried to drill into him - but decided to let it slide. If anyone else would come in, he would nudge Judai off. Right now, he wanted to listen to Judai, and if that meant letting him sit where he wanted, he would accept it.

“Nope,” Judai shook his head, sighing casually. “I’m from the other side, though. Near Ikebukuro. We lived there until I was seven, and then Dad got called out to Los Angeles and we went with him. Work stuff. New office something. Don’t ask. I don’t know much about it.”

The way Judai spoke, his father’s job was less secret and more outright confusing - or dull, Shou thought. If anything was too boring to pique Judai’s interest, he would try to avoid it, just like math homework, until the day before it was due and he was desperate for answers to avoid looking like a fool in front of the teacher.

“My family’s from all over the place,” he continued. “Like, my grandpa’s from Japan, and he moved to America. He met my grandma in New York, and you know what? Turned out she spoke Japanese.”

“Was she from Japan, too, then?”

“Nope. She’s from England. Her housemaid taught her Japanese as a kid. Spooky, right? Anyway, she went to New York and met Grandpa there. They had my mom, and she met my dad at university, and guess what? He was from Japan. So then, they graduated together, she went back with him, they went to Tokyo, had me at some point, then we ended up going back to America again… pretty crazy, huh? We just keep looping, from here to there to back here again.”

_Looping. Repeating. Over and over again._

As much as Shou thought about it, he could not shake off the memory of hearing Kagemaru say it. _It’s just like the past._

Still, he had to admit, it was far more diverse than the family history he knew of. What little had gotten out of the papers, the diary, and old man Kagemaru was all rooted in Japan, and Yanaka alone. The one element out of reach was the German girl, Adelheid; but she was dead and gone too, Shou reminded himself. There was no use thinking of the past now, not when he had a future to prepare for.

“That is… pretty strange,” he admitted, smiling sincerely.

“It’s just funny, because we seem to be coming back to the Japanese roots over and over.”

Judai glanced around the shop, his gaze travelling across and up and down the room, as if looking over a small world of his own. How much he understood about tea blends and herbal remedies, Shou knew it was little, or nothing at all. All the same, he could see the curiosity and wonder in Judai’s eyes - but whether it was at the shop’s interior, now that he could get a good look, or at the thoughts of a history of travel that were circling around in his head, he was not quite sure.

For a second, he thought of telling him his idea. He had a small secret. It was what the scents of Amaruya had been trying to tell him to do for weeks on end. 

Shaking his head, he changed his mind. He had other questions, far too many of them. His secret could keep itself quiet.

“Is that why you came back and started this place? I - I mean, why you started _Miracle Fusion_?”

Judai shrugged. “I don’t know why, to be honest. Mom just had the idea the year before we left America, to open up somewhere like this when we got back to Japan. She didn’t get to bake much while we were there, and when she did bake, we ended up eating it at really random times of the day.”

“How come?”

“Well, Dad had his job. Mom kind of had a couple of things for a year or two, but then she settled at this one place, and then she went onto night shifts. She was up all night, and only got home after I’d left for school and Dad went to work. I swear, I barely saw her when she wasn’t asleep, and when she was… well, a lot of the time, she was crying.”

“Really?” Shou’s eyes widened. Eri, as far as he knew her, has always been happy.

Judai looked away, as if trying to hide something. From the heavy sigh that came from his chest, Shou knew that it was sadness.

“It got kinda lonely. I mean, Dad was working. Mom was in bed when I was awake. And then, I didn’t really have friends either.”

For years, Shou had been alone. Even before he had been pulled into working at Amaruya, in his first year of high school and in the middle school years before that, he had never been able to hold on to friends. Sometimes, he did not have the voice to speak up. Other times, his classmates had simply ignored him, pushing past him in the corridors before he could even make as much as a squeak in their direction.

When he had been small, he had played with the neighbourhood boys, but their games had not always been pleasant. Staying away had been for the best.

“…You didn’t?” Shou repeated.

“No,” Judai shook his head. “I tried for a while, and elementary wasn’t a big deal. You’re never really friends for long with anyone there. Then high school came and well, I didn’t really fit in anywhere.”

“You spoke English, though, right?”

“Yeah. I picked it up in elementary. But, well, that wasn’t the reason. I just… I tried to be friends with people, but they didn’t stay. There was maybe one person, but he was an exchange kid. Left after a year. Johan, that was his name. He was from Norway. Cool guy, but… he couldn’t stay long.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I know. And… well, I don’t know. It was hard to fit in anywhere, really. Like, I played baseball a bit, but I wasn’t with the jock crowd. I just kinda quit after a while. Didn’t really have much in common with the Asian kids either.”

The thought of Judai - someone so loud, so bright and full of life, not quiet and small like himself - being alone, just like he had been for so long, was as strange as it was oddly comforting. He had always thought of his friend as a popular kind of person, even if he did spend most of his time in his company, and no longer saw crowds of curious classmates wanting to know about life in America.

He wanted to say something. He had not expected Judai to have felt the same way he had felt for a long time.

“I… I’m sorry.”

He did not expect Judai to flick his hand at the whole thing.

“It’s fine. I mean, that’s all the past now, isn’t it?”

Judai eased himself back up and turned around, leaning back on the counter just slightly again. This time, there was nothing to hide. They were face-to-face again, and Shou could see him just struggling to smile back again. Judai’s past hurt, far more than could be hidden so easily.

“The past, right?” His smile wobbled, but straightened back up again quickly. “Just… got to keep going to the future, though. You and I, right?”

Shou nodded.

“Yes.” He could not think of anything to say back. 

It was not something to take lightly. He knew he had to support him. Judai had been there for him, and he had to stay, too.

Maybe by chance, or because Judai himself had hurt just as much in the past, or because of something else, or because of no other reason - something had pulled the two of them together. Whatever it had been, it had given them the friendship they had. That friendship, Shou knew, was precious. He felt it deep in his heart. He could not let it be broken.

_They won’t be friends for much -_

He had to fight to get the thought out of his mind. Not even what Kagemaru had said would destroy them. He did not want to be alone again, and he knew Judai would not want it either.

_No. We aren’t going to bow to that. We can’t. We just can’t._

They had one another. It would be enough.

They would repeat a little history - just a little, not enough to cause harm - and bring back the melonpan Shou’s grandfather and his work partner had spent years and years baking. They would make their own mark. They would do what it took to save the House of Flowers. All would be well again.

_Maybe, just maybe,_ Shou thought, _I can find out why Dad hated Grandfather so much, and the melonpan._

_They baked - but they baked together as friends. There was nothing wrong with their friendship…_

The dates of his birth and his grandfather’s death were one thing, but what else was there to be found, he could not begin to guess. Kagemaru had surrendered his knowledge already. In the weeks before the summer vacation had started, he had asked some of the temple and shrine keepers in Yanaka. They had not known as much as the oldest man at the House of Flowers had.

A few House elders still remembered the melonpan. Hearing their stories of bread and sunshine, and the smiles of the two that had baked it, had made his heart swell with warmth.

He and Judai would dig through the recipes and find out their own. Even if the past was dead and gone, and the original recipe lost, they still had time. They had pages and hands and wandering eyes. They had two months to go before the September festival. He would tell Mizuchi the plan on Saturday. The kitchen at the back of Miracle Fusion would, hopefully, be theirs for the summer.

They still had hope in their hands. Shou knew that he was not alone, and he would not let Judai be lonely that summer.

“So, when can we start?” Judai asked, thrusting him out of his thoughts. Shou almost jumped in surprise.

“This Sunday? I’ll see Mizuchi on Saturday.”

“Gotcha. I’m good with that.”

“I can try to find weekdays, but I don’t know about Dad letting me off.”

“Hey, I get you, I might be working too.”

“We have all of summer, right? What about September, just in case?”

“Umm… hold on,” Judai trailed off, humming in thought, “September we’re back in school, right? I don’t know about the weekends, but the festival day will be all right. I don’t know about the rest of them.”

Shou had not heard of anything going on in September, other than the festival and his eighteenth birthday. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Wait, I didn’t tell you?” His friend looked confused all of a sudden, a little flustered even, as he fidgeted with his hands, mouth just open with an awkward stare in his eyes as he realised that he had, indeed, forgotten.

“Tell me what?”

“Well, Dad only told us last night. My grandparents are coming to visit.”

“Wait, what? That’s in September?”

“Yeah.” Judai said, calming. “Right at the start of September. They’ll be travelling north to Hokkaido at some point, but they’ll probably be down here for a bit too. I don’t know if my folks will want me to show them around.”

“They’re from America, right?” Shou asked, curiosity impossible to hide. Judai had mentioned it only minutes ago, but it never hurt to be sure. The thought of new, hopefully friendly faces excited him.

“Uh-huh. Grandpa’s getting old. He wanted to come back and see his old town up north, before, you know. Grandma’s coming with him. He thought, well, might as well show her Japan. She’s going to love this place… once she gets over the flying…”

For a few moments, Judai was in a world of his own as he stared off in thought. Shou could only imagine having distant relatives from half a world away. He could not help but feel envious, knowing that all of his family were either living in one part of Tokyo, or not living at all.

“Wait,” he mumbled, stopping to think. “Did you say your grandpa was from Japan to begin with?”

“Yeah. He went to America after the war. I don’t know how he ended up in New York, though. I mean, from what he’s told us, he travelled around a lot, and then he met Grandma in a cafe in Manhattan - like, that sounds like some kind of old movie, right?“

“…Judai?”

“Hm?”

“What are the chances of your grandpa knowing something about the past?”

It was a crazy idea.

The chance was tiny, but one he could not stop thinking about. Judai had mentioned Hokkaido; miles and miles away, on another, colder island, far from Yanaka and all of Tokyo entirely. He doubted the man would know about Amaruya - but there was a small chance that he would know something else useful to them.

“What part of it?”

“Like… did he fight in the war?”

How old Judai’s grandfather had been was something he did not know, but Shou could not help but ponder. Kagemaru had spoken of the war. He could still remember how the old man’s eyes had glossed over for a few moments while he recalled the smoke and bullets fired off in Formosa, and how his weathered hand had drifted towards one injured leg.

He could only begin to imagine what his grandfather and Amamiya Tarou had seen. He had not found out the details of their drafting. There were no medals and no specific records that he had found, neither in the files, nor in the attic as far as he had been able to dig into.

“I think he did. I don’t know, though. He didn’t talk about that much. Why?”

Kagemaru had not been in the same military unit as his grandfather, and had been a medic. Judai’s grandfather, if he had fought at all, had most likely been in a different one again. There would not be much to ask about, he suspected.

Somehow, some part of him was still curious. He wanted to know. How bad had the war been? How badly had it hurt his grandfather, and Amamiya, his friend and partner?

He could not shake off the fear that the war had been clinging to the man like a beast, and that it had only grown stronger after the end of the melonpan years. As much as he dreaded it, he wanted to know. He needed to know what had happened, and what the war had to do with his grandfather’s life, and his death; how and why his grandfather had come to the decision to kill himself, and why it had happened on the very day that Shou had taken his first breaths, only five minutes after.

“Just curious,” Shou mumbled, biting his lip. “I just wonder what that might have been like. With, you know, my grandfather. What he went through. What went on.”

“I’m sorry.“

“It’s not your fault,” he said with a sigh. “I mean, he died a long time ago. I guess I just want to find out how things might have been like. What it was like to fight in that war.”

“Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with asking him.”

Shou’s heart skipped a beat. He had become too used to doors being slammed in his face and blunt excuses. “Really?”

“We’ve just got to wait until he comes here, though,” Judai said, trying to reassure him that something was going to come out of the visit after all, even if things were looking desperate, and both of them were still somewhat stuck for information about the melonpan. “Mom and Dad told me to keep just about everything a surprise.”

“So, we can’t even call him beforehand?” Shou asked, sighing with disappointment.

“Well, Mom said it’s best if we don’t. We’re not even allowed to talk about this place.”

“Wait, _what?”_

He almost yelled out at him. It wasn’t fair.

From Judai walking in for the first time and knocking over Amaruya’s sign, almost leaving it broken, to insulting the entire tea-drinking population of Tokyo and maybe the world, Judai had done the place nothing good. He had been a good friend and kept Shou company. He had been kind - but he had never quite been positive about his family’s business. Even now, he could see that Judai’s expression was far from the relaxed one he wore whenever he was around the thick coffee smell of _Miracle Fusion._

Why was he not even allowed to talk about Amaruya now?

“Hey, trust me, it’s a good reason!”

Judai fretted, trying to calm Shou at the slightest twitch of his eyebrows. “Trust me, all right? We’re planning loads of stuff for this trip, so we can’t tell Grandpa. Or Grandma. She might tell him everything, and that’s going to spoil the surprise.” 

“Surprise?” Shou echoed.

“Well, you know I said Grandpa travelled? Well, he used to. I don’t think he’s left New York for a while. Maybe not since he came there. But hey, listen. We’re not stopping at Sapporo. We’re showing them everything. And hey, you know my grandma’s from England?”

“Really?”

“Yup. And that’s it, she’s English. You know they like tea. She’s going to love this place, and put it this way, Grandma’s not the kind to love much.”

The image of a grumpy old woman, moaning at everything, was nothing out of the ordinary for Shou. Even amongst the warm looks of the elders at the House of Flowers, there had always been its quieter residents. When he had tried speaking to them, they had only furrowed their brows and gone no closer to him than calling him ‘tea boy’.

A year had passed since. Some of them were only just beginning to look at him with barely-there smiles. Most of them had warmed up. He had been lucky. No matter what, he had learned to smile back, and those he had befriended were returning his favour.

“So you want us to surprise your grandparents?”

“Exactly. Surprise both of them. We’re going to treat them. So, we thought we’d bring her and Grandpa to Amaruya. We’ll buy them as much fancy tea as they want, maybe take Grandpa around Yanaka or something. This place is basically stuck in the past. Just his kind of thing. After that, Dad’ll take them on that big tour. He’s getting time off just for that.”

“Really?”

“Really. They’re going to love it. Then we can ask Grandpa about his history.”

Recalling his idea for the summer - his own little project - Shou smiled. That was something else he would work on. He would surprise Judai’s grandmother not only with the family business, but with something a little more personal.

He did not want to tell Judai yet. Not even his father knew that he had started working out tea blends of his own during breaks.

“We can try,” he said, hope bright in his eyes. “Just don’t run into my dad.”

His father would welcome them, just as he did everyone else, but he would spit behind their backs at the same time. It was something Shou had noticed about him, and about the way he went about running the business. He had been taught to leave his feelings behind. Once the customer was gone and out of the place, his father had said, do as you want. _Curse them for hours if you feel like you’ve encountered some bastards._

He had never wanted to curse anyone out. Some customers had been annoying, and others plain stupid. Others - he gave Judai a glance - had knocked over the sign, but he had not wanted to do anything to them.

These were Judai’s family. If they would not mind, he wanted to meet them. He wanted to talk to them - to be kind to them, in front of them and behind them, and to hopefully get some information out of Judai’s grandfather. If it meant weaving past a moody old lady, then it was no issue. He would impress her, too, and get to whatever he needed.

He had to be there. He had to know first.

“Well, we can plan that,” Judai grinned with confidence. “How bad is he, anyway?”

“He hates me.” Shou stated, breaking off the laugh.

It hurt, all of a sudden, just to remember him. He did not want to talk about him; he was sure his father was only upstairs, and would probably be latching on to every word he heard through the ceiling and floor. It was not only his eyes that Shou feared, but his ears, and everything else about him. He commanded, and Shou had no choice but to bow to him, and cower.

There was a small silence, Judai having frozen and the smirk gone from his face, realising that Shou was uncomfortable. “Sorry,” he said, looking away.

“No, it’s all right. It happens.” Shou sighed, realising he had cut off the good mood in the room. For once, Amaruya was empty, save for himself and Judai. If his father really was awake upstairs, then he was quiet. His mother was at work. Customers were less common in the mornings.

They had time together in what would likely soon turn into a mess of work and summer commitments. What little time they would have, they would need to spend baking.

“So, we’re definitely starting this weekend? With the stuff you have?”

He went back to what they had started the conversation with, hoping Judai was not feeling too awkward to talk again. He did not want silence; not with his friend in the room, and not with the nagging fear that one small fumble could break their friendship apart, still tugging at him from the inside.

It did not take Judai long to bounce back. “Yup. You pick, which one do we start with?”

“You bake, though. Can you pick one that looks promising?”

“They all do…”

“Then, the easiest one?”

“Let’s just go with the first one down here. I really can’t tell which one of these is the easiest one. They all look kind of the same to me. Hey, you ever made bread in two parts?”

“Two parts? What do you mean?”

Judai turned around and pointed. His finger ran down to the bottom of the first sheet, picking out a divider. “That’s the way melonpan works. You do the bread dough and the cookie part separately.”

“Oh.” Shou cringed. He did not want to confess that he had only baked enough times to count on his fingers. Bread-baking was far from familiar.

“I’ll show you. I mean, I’ve never tried making this stuff before, but I’ve done bread a bit. I could ask Mom if she can make sense of these, but that’s if we don’t get anything done by ourselves.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s got to be ours, right?” Judai’s grin was back, as if it had never left in that awkward moment of silence. “That, and it’s more fun if we try.”

“What if we mess up?”

“Then we just keep on trying. Even if we try to bake melonpan and all that comes out is pancakes.”

“…Pancakes?” Shou asked.

For just a moment, Shou swore he saw the corners of Judai’s mouth twitch. There was a small, smirking breath - and then, his friend burst into sudden laughter. 

Whether it was the image of melonpan turning to pancakes, or the confused look Shou ended up giving him that only led to him laughing even more, it did not matter. There were only a few heartbeats between them before Shou found himself following, laughing along and leaning a little too much on the counter.

“I’m sorry,” Judai breathed out in between laughs, “There was this one time, back in America… _pancakes…”_

It was silly. He did not understand, but it was impossible to resist. He would ask him as soon as the laughter subsided, but in that instant, it was not needed. He needed no reason. The sight of Judai losing it, so suddenly at something so random, made him unable to fight it, and so, he laughed too, without explanation; without words at all.

“Tell me?"

Judai carried on laughing, but tried to talk through it. “Well, you know Johan? That Norwegian exchange student I mentioned? We had him in class for one year, and he started… telling us about these things… like, Norwegian pancakes. And thing is, well… oh man, you should have been there…”

His attempts only made Shou laugh along with him, out of control. What was so funny about Norwegian pancakes, he would only find out after five minutes of Judai trying to breathe, and by then, he was laughing more at Judai trying to speak than whatever had occurred with the exchange student from Norway.

He could hear his father’s heavy steps echoing as he came down the stairs. He was probably confused by what was happening, he thought, but it did not matter. It did not make him anxious as much as it usually did in that stupid, careless moment, with just Judai laughing, carefree, and the light of the sun drawing diagonals on the counter, and the faint, silly blush Shou could feel beginning to soak into his cheeks, warm and sweet as the very season of summer.

 _Like friendship,_ he thought. _My grandfather had a friend like that too._

_...It’s a good thing that I have a friend, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Friendship". Oh, Shou, how dense of you...
> 
> Maybe one day I will try and explain the Norwegian pancake story, but don't ask me for now.
> 
> Comments appreciated, no AO3 account needed!


	15. Ch. 14

_** chapter fourteen. ** _

The recipes flew by, sheet by sheet and weekend by weekend, with a few lucky weekday afternoons dotted between them when both Judai and Shou were free. Stains made their way onto the paper. Flour stuck underneath nails and powdered hands and clothes white. Cleaning up each week was chaos.

It was fortunate that Judai’s mother - _Eri,_ Shou had to remind himself each time he addressed her, _Eri_ \- did not complain. She had not minded the use of the kitchen when she was not using it herself. When she had heard of their plan, she had only clapped and smiled, and offered a helping hand and some hints.

It was only a shame that she had never baked melonpan either.

Her word was good. Judai had assured it. She had not said a word, either. Shou knew he could walk home and meet his father’s sharp eyes with a tiny lie on his tongue. It did not matter what he was working on - not really, not to his father of all people. The lie would be worth every second it gave him.

He did not like lying, but the lie was only a trivial one. He had found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark and counting down the minutes, knowing he would soon be one day closer to September; to the day of his eighteenth birthday and the evening of the September festival, when the melonpan would be brought back to life in the light of the fireworks.

Then, he was sure of it, nobody would be able to do a thing about it.

Mizuchi was told of their idea; with only a small hint of early-days doubt in her eyes, she questioned it, but accepted. Even old man Kagemaru had met the idea with a rare smile. Tome-san and Samejima had promised to cheer them on. What had been left over from each batch Shou took to the House on Sunday evenings.

Somehow, they won Mizuchi’s favour completely. Her smile had echoed in the reflection of every one of her mirrors.

With the attempts, weeks passed fast. Recipes were tried. The first attempt was not a disaster, but it was far from perfect. They did not stop that time. Page by page, try by try, the efforts flew by. Judai told Shou to keep trying, and so he tried.

Amaruya grew busier in the summer. He had been right. Tourists and locals would file in, curious hands and noses picking at all corners. Samples were brewed and packets were labelled. The till, day by day, filled with money. Summer was pleasant enough, Shou decided. The visitors seldom left empty-handed, and even rarer were the days where he did not say a word to the customers. It filled him with pride, seeing them smile, young and old, asking him about all that he knew in the tea world. Summer brought with it more bustle, and he grew more thankful for the quieter times that he savoured. When the sky was still blue, but the shop was in its final opening hours, he would relax and taste-test his blends, looking out at the purpling of the sky, and thinking of summer.

It was at one of those times, on a Sunday afternoon that he and Judai took a table in Miracle Fusion to talk of what they had managed. July had turned to August already by then, and both knew of the truth; that time, as they knew it, was ticking.

What time they had was only growing shorter and shorter.

“…So, where are we going from here?”

The conversation began long before their cups had been brought to the table, as Judai leaned across towards Shou, trying to block out the clattering of plates and spoons in the background and the mumble of a grumpy Manjoume, most likely tired out from his hours at the counter.

Shou’s head was not quite calm - far from it, he admitted in silence - as he beat back the beginnings of a headache. He had awoken that day with the feeling, but did not have the guts to mention to anyone.

Something was pounding inside his head. He knew he was not feeling well.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “we tried them all out. I tried to compile things last night.”

“Did you bring the notes?” Judai asked.

“Yes…”

There was a small shuffle as Shou reached to dig around in his bag. Gently - with far more care than he gave any of his school work or textbooks, as much as he was concerned over them - he pulled out a small notebook, its once-white corners stained a pale brown. Behind its cover and the battered spiral binding, scribbles peered out in black ink and blue. Smaller papers bulged around from all sides.

It was hard not to drop any of them, and Shou couldn’t help but fear that he had lost some of the things he had written. Not even glue stick had helped them. Judai, he had learned, had a terrible habit of forgetting just about everything, and he had been no worse.

He did not need to tell Judai that he had stayed up far too late, trying to put all of the notes together. The hours he had spent staring up at the ceiling, lost in a daydream with the pages in his hands had ticked by far too fast. In the end, he had barely slept. _I screwed up,_ he thought. _It’s my own fault I feel terrible._

His head was still thrumming. He could feel a sort of haziness behind his eyes, and with the waves of ache that passed through him. Things before him would blur out sometimes, then refocus. It made his head hurt.

Judai did not need to know that.

“Here,” he said, concealing a yawn. He pushed the book in his direction, eyeing it with concern to make sure the contents did not spill.

Judai nodded, carefully opening up the notepad and flipping through pages. “Which ones did you say that you liked?”

“The first one,” Shou stated, “and maybe the third one. Those were the best.”

Even if the first time had been imperfect - but thankfully, Shou recalled with a smirk, nothing like pancakes - it had felt somewhat magical. Something as simple as seeing the bread come out of the oven, hot and bright, had made his heart leap with pride. It had been small, but a success.

The notes they had kept were far from ordered. Judai had left some pages blank, and some were scrawled in completely. There were colourful notes poking out of both left and right sides. 

What they held in their hands was less of the organised note set that Shou had envisaged, and more of a glorified mess, but he hoped that their mess would be enough. Everything had been written down, even if Judai’s writing was sometimes too chaotic to read, and it was better than nothing, Shou had to keep reminding himself. He had forced himself to let Judai slide. For once, what was more important was the bread itself, and not the writing, and the end justified their disastrous means.

He could still remember the taste of of the first week’s on his tongue. It had not tasted quite like he remembered Asakusa’s melonpan being, and it had certainly not been like the buns he had bought at the corner store in the past. They had not been perfect. He had savoured every bite and wished he could have kept the batch for himself.

Judai had looked back, bread crumbs on his chin and stuck to his fingers, and given more than a nod of approval. It had made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah. Those were good,” Judai agreed. “I’ve still got that one saved. The third one, as well?”

“Uh-huh.”

He searched around in the notebook, turning page by page and trying to not send the loose sheets and notes inside it flying over the table. The paper he pulled out was a little stained and well-creased, but legible nonetheless. A splash of water had made some of the ink run - Shou saw as Judai laid it out, trying to get rid of the folds on the page - but he could read it, and that was enough.

He peered over, pulling the sheet to himself and read through what Judai had scribbled between printed lines. “Bit more flour… More egg next time?”

Judai shook his head. “Ignore that, the egg was all right. Might just have been a small one that time.”

“All right. Something about the sugar? I can’t read,” Shou continued, squinting to make sense of some of the handwriting.

Even trying to look too hard made his head spin, just for a second. He had to look away and breathe for a moment to recompose himself. Judai did not see, and he was thankful.

“I can’t remember,” Judai replied. It took a few seconds before he almost leapt up, recalling what he had missed. “Oh! I think we could have done with less sugar. I think it was good otherwise.”

It felt strange, after all these weekends surrounded by cake, to hear Judai complaining about sugar. Shou couldn’t help but let out a small laugh under his breath. _The irony._

He had not expected Judai to be picky about sweetness. When they had first met, he had not imagined that Judai’s love of sweets had its limits. He had never been able to say no to cake, and had even turned to slyly swiping some of the sweeter parts of Shou’s lunch at school.

Shou had called him a menace. Judai promised free cake in return, and he had not lied. Eri had turned out to be lenient with the slices she shared, and by now had stopped asking if he wanted some whenever Judai invited him over. It made him laugh a little under his breath, thinking about it; how hospitable Judai’s mother could be, and how she would probably find something in common with his own mother, if she was ever free to visit Miracle Fusion.

Being alone most days had its perks, still. If not for his father, Amaruya would have been Shou’s little paradise, sweet-smelling and calming and vibrant, each individual packet of tea having its own special fragrance that only he could pick out.

_It’s all tea to me,_ Judai had said once. Shou couldn’t help but smile at the memory of it, but why some part of him felt that little bit warmer, he could not decide.

Thinking back, he could not scorn him. His family had that something special to them - something neither he nor his father had ever been able to explain, and that something had most likely been part of his grandfather, too.

The bakeneko blood story seemed strange. It was most probably only a legend, even if something about it seemed far more alluring than just chance or family genes.

His head began to ache, and he raised a hand to his temple.

“…You all right?”

Shou jumped in his seat. He shook his head, looking back at a confused-looking Judai. “I’m fine,” he blurted, doing his best to lie.

Judai shrugged, still somewhat wide-eyed. “Your head. Is something up?”

“No, I’m good,” he insisted. It had only been a small distraction. The last thing he needed was anyone to worry about him, least of all Judai. They had bigger things to worry about, like the melonpan.

The tick of the clock made his heart beat a little faster. He had to focus and work out the recipe. They would not have much time left at this rate, not until September.

He was about to ask Judai to continue when the sound of faintly clinking cups drew closer, and a tray clattered down onto the table between them. Judai leaned back, just as surprised as Shou had been only moments ago, as if to avoid anything spilling. To his fortune, nothing even touched the rims of the cups. Only the foam on top of his cappuccino shook a little; the cocoa on top only melted into it a little more, and none of the liquid spilled out.

Shou’s tea - black this time, he sighed with relief - narrowly avoided a spillage.

“All right, coffee for you, tea for him?” Manjoume stated, not quite polite enough to be asking. He did not wait for a response from either of the two at the table before he carefully picked up the cups and moved them off the tray. 

“Got that right,” Judai flashed him a grin.

Manjoume only let out a groan. “And what are you so happy about? Because you got the day off?”

“No, it’s that you remembered that Shou doesn’t like coffee. Or milk.”

“Psh. That’s nothing special.”

“Well, you couldn’t remember it for weeks…”

It was true, and it had frustrated Shou as much as it had made him laugh deep down. Manjoume had made him chai latte at least three times by supposed accident. Shou had not pointed it out the first time and drank it nonetheless, somewhat bitterly; Judai had been the one to stand up and tell Manjoume that he had made the mistake.

The look in Manjoume’s eyes had made Shou’s own face turn red, half cringing at the fact that Judai had been the one to complain, and half straining not to laugh at Manjoume trying to hide his embarrassment.

“Shut it.” Manjoume murmured, keeping his voice down. The cafe was not empty enough for him to hiss as he pleased.

“Maybe get Misawa to do it?” Judai teased. “He remembers way better.”

“Are you saying I can’t?”

“I kind of am…”

Some part of Shou wanted to interfere. There were sparks between Judai’s sheepish grin and Manjoume’s scowl. He could only hope that neither of them had forgotten their situation. One was at work and the other an off-duty co-worker, and neither would be making the best kind of impression if the spat that lurked on the horizon was about to rise up.

How Misawa could tolerate Manjoume - and how they had not had any more fights - was a shock and a mystery.

Manjoume was the first to give up, to Shou’s surprise, sighing and gesturing to keep the sound down. Flinching, he turned around and then back again, and swallowed with uncertainty. The look in his eyes was somewhat unusual for someone like him; it was something Shou recognised from seeing himself in the mirror, alone in his room. In Manjoume’s eyes was the faint sting of worry.

“No, damn you. Shut up. I can’t deal with you now. _She_ ’s here,” he hissed, turning towards Judai. What he meant, Shou did not know. He could say nothing. Whether Judai knew or not, he wasn’t sure, but the way he tilted his head suggested utter confusion.

“Who?”

“You know,” he said with a quiet sigh. “I’m not going to tell the whole place about this.”

“Oh. _Her,_ right?”

“Yes. Now zip it.”

Judai glanced over his shoulder, then back again. For a moment, Shou did not realise what he was looking at - until he saw a girl at one of the other tables, calmly sipping a coffee. Her white sun hat covered part of what looked to be a pretty face. Brown-blonde hair spilled down, dark against her summer dress, the same colour as a cloud in the summer sky.

She did not appear to have noticed Manjoume, or Shou as he looked on, hoping he was looking at the right person.

“And you better quit staring, or she’ll think we’re all freaks.” Manjoume’s tone snapped him back into focus. He turned around quickly, throat still. Manjoume’s eyes stared at him like two pointed daggers.

“Okay,” he mumbled, swallowing. He did not want to risk any trouble.

Manjoume straightened up with a sigh, picking tray back up and placing it under his arm. He did not say anything else as he turned around and made his way back to the counter - but not without one last piercing gaze in Shou and Judai’s direction. Which of them he was trying to threaten, Shou could not tell. He was pinned down to his seat regardless.

It took a few more moments of silence and an exchange of awkward stares across the table before he could pluck up the courage to speak again. Manjoume had not threatened to harm him, but something about him had made him uncomfortable enough to wish he could have just slinked away, unnoticed and silent, out of sight and as far away from his bad mood as possible. How Judai, and worse still, Misawa, could cope with him, he could only begin to guess.

With a quick turn to check that he was far enough, Judai let out a sigh of relief. “Seriously. Don’t be scared of him. He thinks he’s so tough, but he’s honestly a big wimp underneath.”

It was not easy for Shou to imagine. He had been coming to Miracle Fusion for months now. Seeing Manjoume with a smile on his face seemed was like looking at a mask; he would only ever do it in front of his customers - and he was smiling now, he knew as he quickly glanced over in his direction. The smiles were alluring, charming somewhat. It had only taken one meeting, back before the cafe had opened, to see how he could really be.

“Really?”

“No kidding,” Judai said with a smirk, “you should have seen him last week. Misawa got him to admit he screwed up with an order. He couldn’t look back at him for three days. And it was with the girl, no less.”

“The one he just told us about?”

“Dunno. If he asks me, then sure. Well, it’d be better to ask Misawa. If he knows her from school, then he might be able to help. I don’t know, though. And I don’t think I can help him.” 

His eyes widened. “How come?” 

“I don’t get girls,” Judai sighed. “I’d rather just have them for friends. Dating a girl? No offence, but that sounds kind of _dull._ ” 

It was not the answer Shou had expected. 

With how girls had clamoured around him in his first week of school back in Japan, he had expected Judai to come out with one on each arm, and with the rest in cat-fights of envy. Seeing them peter out, as well as most interest in him as Judai’s ‘new kid’ reputation faded away, had been a little odd in his eyes, as much as it was a relief to know that Judai had chosen him as a friend. 

Thinking back at how he had seen some of his school seniors act around girls, it brought with it a kind of relief. He could not imagine seeing someone like that - not to the point of wanting to cling to them like a magnet, or even tolerating someone, less human and more akin to a lapdog, following and clinging to his heels. 

_I hope I’m not like that to Judai,_ he thought, feeling his face flush a little with heat. “That makes it sound like you’d rather date guys.” 

“Maybe I would. I don’t know.” Judai said, looking around. The look in his eyes was strange; somewhat distant, as if trying to hide. “It doesn’t sound as weird to me, but then, I don’t really get how girls work. I understand guys. Might just be ‘cause I am one, but don’t take my word for it. Come back in ten years if you still want that answer… but, yeah. I don’t think I like girls.” 

It took a few seconds for the whole thing to process. Of the people he had met, all of them seemed to know themselves far better that Shou himself had. He had envied them a little, deep down, seeing girls happy with boys, or other girls, but he had never quite thought of himself as being like them. He had always been certain - but how certain, he did not know any more. 

What Judai had said made him stop for a moment and think.

“Hey, are you all right? You’ve been kind of odd lately…” 

He did not have long to spend in silence before Judai peered over, turning his head in confusion. It made him jerk with surprise. 

“I - I’m fine,” he said, voice struggling to hold up the lie behind the tired eyes and the growing pain in his head. “What did you think was up?” 

“I don’t know. What I said just now. I mean, sorry. If that makes you uncomfortable.”

For the first time, Judai wasn’t smiling. There was an awkward, hesitant look on his face, as if he knew he had said something wrong.

“No, it’s OK.” Shou said. “I mean, you like who you like, right?”

The sight of him made him ache even more on the inside, but the ache was a different kind. He did not need Judai looking at him with anxious eyes, nor coming so close…

“Wait, you don’t mind? That I - “

“No… I mean, that’s totally fine…”

“Shou?”

He shirked away, trying to hind the blush on his face. Whether it was from the fever he was now sure he had caught, or something else, he could not understand. The pain in his head was worse now, beating and beating. He cursed on the inside, scorning himself for not taking some kind of medicine before he left. 

“No, honestly. I mean, if you don’t like girls, that’s fine - “

“Not that. I mean, you’ve been kind of off all this time, since - what’s up?”

“I’m fine, just a little…” Shou trailed off, slumping forward a little. “Little… not good, I mean… no, it’s fine…”

He wasn’t. He wanted to sleep. Even the thought of falling down somewhere, no matter where, felt better than staying upright. 

“Seriously?”

“No. I really am fine. It’s not you. What were you saying?” 

Shrugging it off was the difficult option of those that he had, but also the easier one. He needed to work things out with Judai. The recipe papers were still in front of them both. He could hear the clock ticking through Miracle Fusion’s usual music. Time was passing by, and here he was, letting it slip out of his hands - knowing that they had less and less time until September, and the weekends were dwindling down. 

What Judai had said had confused him, deep down. He needed to understand it. 

Leaning back again as Shou refocused, Judai looked back up at his face, and pondered for a moment. His expression, as he began to speak again, turned awkward. “I was just saying that I don’t want to date girls. I don’t know what people like about them so much. I think I might prefer guys.” 

“Oh,” Shou mumbled under the strain. “Is that... guys _in general?_ Or just _some?”_

Judai shrugged. “I don’t know. Might be all of them, might be a couple. Maybe I don’t want to date anyone. Or I do, but I’ve just not met the right person yet. Like I said, it’s all a mess right now.” 

It seemed plausible, even if he had never considered that Judai was not straight. Men were one thing - _definitely, most definitely, at least I know I like girls,_ he forced the thought into his head - but dating in itself was another. The girls that had lingered in his mind had not stayed around much more than a day. Even if being ignored by his classmates was painful, it did not stab, like he had read in a few novels. Looking back, he could not help but scowl at how melodramatic some of them had been. It had not made sense in his mind.

He had never felt like spending his life with any of the girls he had known. It had been strange.

“The right person? Well, what have they got to be like?” He asked, suddenly curious. 

“Er, I don’t know. Nice people, I guess? Fun?” Judai shrugged. “I mean, that’s the most important thing. Well, if they look good that’s a bonus, but… I don’t know, someone a bit like a friend. Someone who actually wants to be by my side, or something - ” 

_“I do.”_

As soon as the words left his mouth, Shou wished he could take them back. It took a heartbeat too many for him to realise what he had said. He had completely forgotten the situation, and blurted it out for no reason other than just wanting to say something.   
“I - I mean, sorry, like…” He hesitated, beginning to panic as Judai peered over, clearly confused. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, we’re friends, and that’s what I meant. I meant that I’m by your side, kinda like that - not like that, you know, that’s _…”_

He tried to look away, hoping that Judai believed the cover. As much as he wanted it to be true, the feeling in his stomach that rose with the pain in his head told him otherwise.

_Oh God, what did I say to him?_

It was hard to think straight with his headache hammering away, stronger now, refusing to back down all of a sudden. He tried to swallow, breathing, hoping the wave would back away. It didn’t.

There was a flash behind his eyelids. Shou winced, biting his lip in an attempt to stop himself crying out.

“Shou?” He heard Judai call out. Worry clung to his tone. 

“I’m fine. I’m OK, I swear,” Shou mumbled, struggling to speak evenly. He did not want to cause a commotion, not even if the headache was worse now, far worse than it had been in the morning and during the previous night, and he felt cold to the point of shivering, even though it was August, and if he tried to open his eyes, the world would not stay still.

He was lying - he knew he was lying, and he hated himself, because the lie was as obvious as his pain.

“You’re not. What’s up? I don’t mean that I’m - ”

“No, it’s all right. It’s not you. It’s nothing… I’m saying stuff…”

“Are you hurting? You don't look good...”

Shou tried to look up. His skull felt like lead. He wanted to scream; his throat ached. The metallic taste in his mouth, raw and sore, was the tell-tale sign. He was sick and he knew it - but he had little time to rest, and he could not let himself rest. It was too early to stop. He had to get back on track with Judai, and work on the recipe, and stop thinking about something as stupid as dating Judai -

_What the hell?_

He shook his head, trying to pretend that he had not had that thought only moments ago. It was a silly thought, not one that ever had a chance to be real. He and Judai were friends, and would have to stay that way - Kagemaru had said, they had to stay friends or they would lose one another.

He tried to think, but couldn’t. The pain in his head, on all sides, was too much to bear. He was going to be sick if he stood up.

His head hit the table, a shock through the ache in his temples.

“Shou? Hey, are you all right? Shou?”

His name, over and over, was lost in the fuzziness. The pain was too much. He knew he was going to faint. He felt it take hold, faster than Judai could manage to get over to him and let him lean over, supporting him, the heat of oncoming illness not being strong enough to block out the feeling of warmth he got with the touch of his friend by his side.

 _Damn it,_ he thought, fighting back the rising push of the headache and the new, growing tightness in his throat, tickling the back of it and forcing a cough. It wasn’t just the fever from the morning still clinging to him, he knew. It was more than only fatigue. There was more to it. He knew he was sick, but the pain he was feeling - confusing, difficult pain - was not the same kind as the fever, and he felt it press tight as Judai grabbed hold of his hand.

It was different - and a lot more painful, as the thoughts clung to him like wraiths and refused to stop pressing down on his chest. They circled around him, but the pain he was feeling was just too much, and he felt his head spin. He was going to faint.

_Shit,_ he realised, playing it over and over again. _Don’t tell me I’m falling in love with him. Don’t tell me. I can’t say a thing. I can’t say anything. I can’t hold on. Everything’s fuzzy. Everything hurts. Don’t tell me._

_Don’t tell me…_

He came to the conclusion just as he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That probably hurt.
> 
> A certain GX blonde makes her cameo! She'll hopefully be showing her face in a spinoff in the future... Next chapter, we'll be seeing another face, one that's been mentioned but really hasn't had a chance to actually show up.
> 
> Leave a review? I appreciate every one of them!


	16. Ch. 15

**_ chapter fifteen. _ **

The first thing he felt, as consciousness began to stir within him, was the softness and pressure of being somewhere he knew. There was a familiar taste to the air as the parted his lips, not quite realising.

It felt like his room. He was there, or somewhere like it.

_How long has it been? How long? What happened? Did I pass out?_

Shou stirred, a groan escaping his lips. The thrum in his head had calmed somewhat, though he could feel it, dormant and far from dead, still deep inside him. He wanted to sleep.

He tossed for a moment, rousing himself more than calming. It was useless. He was awake now.

The feeling was there, stirring and creeping, pressing into his head and throat. He was still sick, no matter how hard he wished for it to have ended and left him. The fuzziness was still there in his head. He did not want to get up. He was hot and cold, both at once; if he dared move an inch, he would freeze.

He could not register much beyond the fact that he was awake. His eyes were still shut, as if glued together, and he did not want to open them. There was solace beneath him. He was in bed - he was sure of that, at least. The feeling of it was familiar.

_I don’t know._

What memories he did have were distorted, hazy; an outright mess, or something like it, he thought, trying to make sense of it all. He could not remember where he had lost sense of everything around him. It was at some point after Judai had grabbed him, he thought, recalling the familiar feeling of another body against his, arm round his shoulder. The rest was fuzzy. Whether what he remembered after was dream or reality, it was impossible to know.

It hurt. He did not want to think about it, or anything at all. There was only the fuzziness in front of his eyes as he opened them, slowly, barely moving. His head was in pain, and the sight - or rather, anything but the sight, he was without glasses - of whatever was there in front of him, was nothing more than a blur.

This was his room. By then, he was certain. It was no different than waking up in the morning, save for the mess in his head and the ache that persisted. His glasses had to be on the table.

Letting out a small grunt, he strained and reached with his arm. Fingers, not quite steady, like a rusted machine, fumbled around on the smooth surface.

He had been right. It was his table, and on it, within reach, were the well-worn frames of his glasses. Fingertips smeared across the lenses. He could not see, but he knew he had touched the right thing. He clasped them and pulled the arm back to himself, wincing as a flash of colour and ache danced across his vision.

_“Ugh…”_

“Ssh. Don’t strain yourself.”

His heart stopped for a second. There was another voice in the room. He was hallucinating. It was the fever, or whatever the strange sickness clouding his senses was. Shou shook his head in disbelief. It had to be a hallucination - he knew the voice, but why would he be hearing it now?

_This is a dream, isn’t it?_ It was the closest thing to a plausible explanation. All was not well. Glasses in one hand, his other hand rubbed his eyes before putting them on, letting his vision adjust. The fog of illness was far from pleasant, even with his vision straight. He groaned again, wishing he could fall down forever.

“I’m telling you, settle down.”

Shou bolted up, turning onto his back and falling back down in surprise as a dark shape came into his field of view. He had guessed it. He had not mistaken the voice, but what, or who, was there in front of him, had no reason to be there.

Still, the figure was real, and he really was there. He was there, sat in his room, resting on the edge of his bed, sighing with his chin resting in the dip of his palm. His eyes were tired, somewhere between grim and concerned, as he had appeared the last time Shou had laid eyes on him, and the time before that…

“Brother?”

It came out as more of a plea than a simple question. His throat hurt. There was an unpleasant raw taste at the back of it, and the half-whine, half-croak that had come out of it instead of a proper word was far from a good sign.

He did not understand. He blinked - once, twice, again, three more times - but it did not feel like a dream. His brother really was there, in the flesh, looking as he always did. Ryou’s eyes reminded him of his father’s, but they did not stab; not like the older man’s did whenever their gazes met, day by day. There were dull circles under his eyes.

“Shou.”

The sound of his own name, from a voice that he had become unfamiliar with, felt completely different to his ears. He tried to lift his head, only to feel the familiar thrum of the same lingering headache.

“What are you doing here?” Shou murmured, trying to sit up and wincing through the unpleasant sensation. “I thought you weren’t going to come back at all. Not this summer.“

He had heard nothing from him - not through phone mail, not through his mother, nothing at all. It was as if Ryou had vanished from the face of the Earth. He had hoped, alone in his room, every night, that he was well and alive, even if there were no words from him. Ryou had never been the kindest of people, nor the most loving that he had known, but he was family. He was not like their father. Ryou was far from that state of cruelty, and it was enough. Even the odd smile was enough to make Ryou precious to him, and he was, painfully so.

“I… came back,” his brother replied, shaking his head. “I’m in Tokyo for a while. I have some time free this summer. I can't be here long, though. You… _understand.”_

His eyes glossed over, the distance in them making something within Shou hurt, and for an instant, that pain was more than the headache. “And I’m sorry about that.”

It did not take many words for Ryou to get his thoughts across. What Shou could not say to others, Ryou got across simply and quickly. He took after their father far more than Shou did. I in both hair, eyes and build, he resembled him almost entirely. The subtle softness that marked Ryou apart from their father was subtle at first sight, but he could see it now. Looking up, the form of his eyes, and even the gentle, barely-there smile on his lips was not like the stony face Shou had been seeing more and more since his brother had left Amaruya behind.

“Yes.”

“I… _can’t be around him.”_

It took no expertise for it to click in his mind. “No, I understand,” Shou nodded.

Ryou was quiet for a moment before speaking again. Even through his feverishness and the ache in his skull, Shou could see him faltering, as if trying to gather words and failing. His brother was tired, whether from his journey from Kyoto or from however long he had been sitting there by his side. He hoped it had not been long. The thought that his brother had been looking after him made him feel somewhat guilty.

_I’ve got to get back,_ he realised.

“I’m sorry I left you like this.”

“No. It’s all right. I’m all right. It’s just…”

_I shouldn’t be here!_

He had to get back to Judai. They needed to work. The thoughts were consuming. It was no good, to just lay here, he knew. He had to get up. There would not be enough time, no matter how long he had been out for. He tried to shake his head and force himself to get up, but the ache intensified and surged down. It was too much to bear. He fell back. Colours danced amongst the black as his eyes flew shut. He winced with the impact.

“Lie down. You’re not. Settle down,” Ryou ordered, somehow still gentle through the depth of his tone.

“No, I need to get back. I’m supposed to be helping.”

“You’re no good for helping anyone when you’re sick. I’m serious.”

There was no use arguing, Shou realised. There were times when Ryou could take on their father’s voice, enough to send pinpricks of fear through his chest. It was not harsh; not intentionally, not how their father willed it to be, but it was enough.

He resigned, turning over to one side and resting his cheek on the pillow. Cold met the flush of his skin, and it was only then that he realised just how badly the fever had seized him.

He had been stupid; he knew. “I’m sorry.”

Ryou shook his head. “Stop it. You don’t need to be sorry.”

Shou swallowed. There was no use arguing with his brother. He would probably not go as far as their father could at times, but he did not want to risk it. There was no point. They were alone now. Their father was elsewhere, out of sight and hearing and reach. There was no need for razor-sharp eyes, nor harrowing footsteps. Around them was silence - true silence, save for the faint sound of streets and birdsong that streamed in through the crack-opening of the window.

He tried to make small talk instead, changing the topic. “How are things in Kyoto?”

“All right.” Ryou’s face did not change. Shou caught wind of a sigh in his tone, but that was all; and it was one more of weariness than the sadness he had been carrying when the two of them had lived in the same house.

“You had something with your roommate last year? Did you sort it out?”

Shou thought back to the last visit his brother had paid him, months ago, briefly before he had returned to Kyoto. In his mind, it felt like a decade since. It had been quick - no more than a few hours, just like this time would be, he already knew. Ryou had stayed with a friend on the other side of Tokyo that time. He had never been one to question his brother, but what had seemed strangest to him was that Ryou, after years of self-proclaimed solitude, had called someone his friend.

“I’m still living with him.”

Shou raised an eyebrow. “Why? I thought you said you didn’t like him…”

“Times change. I tolerate him.” Ryou looked away for a moment, and Shou thought of the roommate in question, as his brother had described him once. _A literature student, theatre enthusiast, dresses like he came out of some drama. Won’t stop playing music at night. Thinks he’s a surfer,_ his brother had grunted.

Times really had changed, Shou thought - or Ryou was lying, though it seemed far from likely. From the look in his eyes - stress, he realised it - it had to be true.

Ryou did not give him much time to ponder as he turned back. “And you. You made friends with someone, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” Shou’s eyes widened for an instant. It took a little effort to recompose himself, recalling all that had happened in the whirlwind months since Judai had come into his life. “Oh, yeah, Judai. His family moved here, and then, I guess we just… started talking.”

He still found it hard to believe, looking back. He had grown used to the loneliness that came with being the heir to the family tea shop. Ryou had left, and he had long since stopped hoping for company, knowing he would not have long in school anyway. Three years and it would be over, fast and never to be thought of again.

He had repeated it to himself, over and over, on the days he had spent smearing tears into his pillow, wishing for at least a kind look and a comforting hand. Shou had lost hope, and then Judai had come into the shop and into his life. He had come in like a storm, shaking up all that he had known, and pushed him out of his loneliness, as sudden as the sound of a sign being kicked down outside.

He had a friend now, as strange as it felt to admit. He had someone he could trust, no matter what, and that person was Judai.

“The brown-haired one, with the red jacket?”

“Yeah, that’s him.” Shou raised an eyebrow, unsure of how his brother knew. Had he seen him?

“That’s good. I saw him just now. He had to get back, but he was with you. I heard you passed out.”

“…Oh.”

It all made sense. It hurt, knowing that he had been a burden, but some part of it brought with it relief. He had been taken home, safe, without a thing happening.

“I was already here, and he told me everything. You better thank him when you’re better.”

Shou fought back the rising feeling of a small, silly blush. “I will.”

His brother nodded, hand resting firm on Shou’s arm. It was soothing, in a strange way, no matter how cool his brother’s fingers were against the feverish flush of his skin. “It’s good that you have him. He passed this on to me, too.”

Before Shou could ask what he was talking about, Ryou was already reaching for it. It was small enough to hide in one of his pockets, and as he pulled the small package out, Shou heard the familiar crinkle of paper.

“Here,” Ryou said, holding out a familiar brown packet. “He said to give you this one. Don’t worry, he paid for it.”

“Wait, _what? Judai_ did?”

Shou looked on, reading the handwriting emblazoned on one side of the bag. His hands reached out, and Ryou did not take it away from him. The faint but tell-tale smell of chrysanthemum seeped out of the bag as he opened it up. 

Mint had always been his to-go tea for headaches, but if he had ever mentioned chrysanthemum tea to Judai, then he had completely forgotten. The longer he stared down at the packet, the stranger it seemed. Had he even said anything to Judai? How his friend had remembered it, he could not comprehend - 

_Unless it was that time. The first time._

He thought of the day he and Judai’s paths had first collided, when the sign outside had been toppled over and Judai had made his first minor insult regarding the tea business. It had been months ago. So much had changed and so long had passed, and Judai had remembered it, somehow.

He could remember parts of that day, and what he had learned. Judai hated tea. It was no secret. That had not changed in the months since that one day in April.

_He remembered. He got it. For me…?_

His heart beat a little faster at the mere thought.

_He got it for me?_

It was as if the world had turned upside down for a moment. If Judai had really put aside his pride, he did not understand what it meant concerning his friend. What he knew, and what he was sure of, was the effect it was having on him. Some part of him urged him to leap out of bed and find Judai, and thank him with all of his heart, and embrace him so tight that it could possibly hurt.

His head hurt too much. Ryou would not let him go, besides, and he did not want to fight him.

Ryou continued, still watching Shou as he curled open the fold on the bag to take in the scent one more time. “He passed me the money for it. Not much of a tea connoisseur himself, I presume?”

“How did you know?”

“He didn’t seem too certain about it. I doubt he knew anything more than the name. But that’s besides the point. If you like, I can brew some.”

Shou had not realised how dry his throat had grown. The thought of something soothing and warm forced a small smile onto his lips, fighting past the feeling of fever. “Yes, please.”

Before he could say anything else, Ryou moved, digging around in his pockets again, and Shou realised that he had acted too early. “I can do that. We have time if you want to talk, or I can leave you alone. Would you like the chrysanthemum, then… or some of _this_ instead?”

Shou’s eyes widened at the sight of a second small packet; one that was not quite like the rest of Amaruya’s, somewhat familiar, as it dangled in the hold of his brother’s fingers. Half of him wanted to pull it out and throw it as far as he could, and the other half screamed in relief, knowing that his brother had been the one to find it, and not his father.

A smile of his own emerging, Ryou passed the new packet on, and Shou clung to it immediately, like a child to a doll.

The writing upon it was Shou’s own, a slight scrawl with the ink barely smeared. _Sencha, spearmint, dried citrus…_ The sight of it made his heart race. He could remember inscribing it, in the silence of an almost-dead shift, the tang of experimental tasting still fresh on his tongue as he had attempted to work out what it needed, scrawling on paper and writing his stopping point on the bag, before hiding it in a drawer, knowing his father would not go into it until a while after Shou’s next shift had finished.

Checking it over, he read, again and again. It was as he had written it himself, only the day before. How his brother had found it, he could only guess.

_Maybe I do need to hide my experiments better,_ he thought with a blush. He had forgotten which of the drawers he had hidden it in, in fast desperation, panicking as he had heard the approach of his father’s footsteps. The scent had not been a dead giveaway, wherever it had been; he did not know if it was luck or ignorance that had saved him.

“…Where did you find it?”

“With the chrysanthemum. Strange place to leave something special like this.”

“Special?”

“It didn’t have a price on it. I’m sure this is _unique.”_

The realisation made his stomach feel strange. Shou tried to look away. “…Yeah,” he muttered, trying hard not to blush.

“I wouldn’t say this is bad, far from it. I only found one packet of this.” Ryou continued, eyeing the packet again. “I don’t remember this one, though. Did Father put something new together? A little strange that it wasn’t sealed, either…”

The look in his eyes was all-knowing, his words twisting into their true meaning from behind the obvious veil. Shou knew there was no use.

“No. I did,” he confessed.

It was something he had been keeping quiet, fearing his father would find it and find nothing good in it. He had been trying to mix herbs and tea for a while, but little had come of it, at least before summer.

The feeling of inspiration had come to him like a flash. He had let it take him away. He had wanted to blend, and the more he had thought of it, the clearer his vision had come. The memory of melonpan sweetness had stayed on his tongue. He had been dreaming of summer for days. In the midst of the silences that came with days upon days of work shifts, he had tasted and tried. He had started working out mixtures that made him think of that wonderful sweetness, of summer itself, and of slight spices; some light, and some warming and deep, almost like Judai’s smile, and the dark cinnamon twist of his hair.

He cringed a little, realising how cliche all of it sounded. Ryou did not need to know his inspiration. It was silly, he reminded himself, but wonderful, all the same. For every small feeling, emotion and change, he would try to find the right taste and proportion.

It had been a small step, but the dream was right there.

“Have you tried it?” The look on Ryou’s face startled him somewhat. It was not one of disgust - not like he had imagined, and there was no sign of him mocking his choice of tea leaves.

“Only a sample,” Shou confessed. He had not gotten far with working out proportions when he had been forced to hide it.

Ryou gave a calm nod. “That sounds all right. Would you like some of it, or the chrysanthemum?”

“Chrysanthemum. Please.”

“That’s all right. I’ll brew it. You stay here,” he ordered, his tone not quite sharp enough to intimidate, but enough for Shou to nod himself in obedience. There wasn’t much he could do anyway, with the way his head hurt and the fever still rendering him too weak to get out of bed without clear discomfort. “Shall I get anything else?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“All right.  Stay here, and try to relax.”

He gave a sigh as his brother left the room, packet of chrysanthemum tea in one hand. Shou looked on, biting back the headache. Ryou’s footsteps were echoing down the stairs, and he could hear each one, wondering if that was what his father could hear day by day, and if he was listening now.

The memories of his and Ryou’s arguments turning to fights was still fresh in his mind. He did not want to relive any of it, but his head would not listen. He closed his eyes, falling back into his pillow and wincing at the pain in his head, and the repeating sounds of shouting and chairs clattering to the floor, of loud feet and tearing paper. Worst of all was the thumping that told him why he would see his brother cursing to himself in private, tugging long sleeves over his arms, and why his father would refuse to look at either one of the two of them in the eyes for days on end in the aftermath.

He could still hear the footsteps below. The ceiling was thin, and he had never realised it. He had guessed that his father was all-hearing, but never considered the situation from his own angle. He could even hear Ryou hum something; something that irked him when it first hit his ears, because Ryou simply did not hum. It was already rare to see him laughing or smiling.

Was he happier now, in Kyoto?

Shou could not deny the small pang of jealousy that rose up inside him. Ryou had fought for the freedom he wanted, to do as he wished, to leave home and to never look back. He had gotten out of the house. He would never man Amaruya again. It was what their father had said after Ryou and all of his suitcases had been trundled out of the place.

Shou could remember the sight of him spitting on the ground and shaking his head.

_Do I really hate this place? Do I hate Dad for everything?_

Amaruya had left him lonely, both at school and out of it. He could barely speak to his classmates, even if two and a half years had passed between him and them, and the corridors of the familiar school. Work had torn him out of the broadcasting club and filled up his Saturdays, leaving Sundays for homework and wandering out around Yanaka. Sometimes, he would take the train out and wander in Ueno or Shibuya instead, but it had not made him happier.

At the same time, he could not bring himself to hate the tea shop. He had always been somewhat attracted to it - to the scents and the sounds of voices, to the boil of the kettle and the taste of a thousand blends on his tongue. He had seen many days when he had closed up the shop with a smile, still thinking of the smiles of old and new customers, perhaps with a small tip in his apron. The broad room, with its plethora of drawers, had become something like a second home. It was one where his father still watched from above and aside, but one where he could work hard and sigh with relief, and see what he was capable of.

The looks of his father were what he resented. Amaruya itself was his home.

Had things been different, Shou thought, would Ryou have ever left? Would he have still given up his family ties to pursue university, or would he have stayed? Would he be there, every day, serving and brewing?

Would he be _smiling?_

It was a difficult question, one he could not answer.

His gaze drifted up to the ceiling. Half of him wanted to sleep until the fever went down, the other half only now just beginning to cool after wanting to rush out of bed, back to Judai.

_Judai,_ he thought. _Judai. He’s my friend, isn’t he?_ His thoughts were hard to keep steady. Even the image of him, or just the mere mention of his name in Shou’s head was enough to make his heart beat that little bit faster and his chest feel a little bit warmer.

_He’s my friend. That’s all he is. But what do I want?_

His hands reached for the packet of tea Ryou had left. It was the one he had been working on out of sight of his father, his writing familiar on one side. Prodding it open with one finger, he took a breath in, taking in its unique scent. If others could not tell the different between his experiment and some similar blend that Amaruya already had, then it did not matter. It was his own work, with his own inspiration, and his own estimations from scratch, down to the proportions.

_I did it. I did something._

It would feel strange to tell Judai the truth, that he had been thinking of him. He would, most likely, not understand. Him remembering something about the chrysanthemum was in itself some kind of miracle. Everything about it was strange

_But… he remembered. He remembered, and got it for me._

How, and why, he was still uncertain. Even if it was not clear, it did bring his lips to a smile. 

He turned over, with a breath in and out, sinking face-down into the pillow. His glasses felt a little uncomfortable, but he did not have the energy to take them off. All he wanted was to melt into his sheets, and to think about nothing, save for the coil of something he could not quite speak out about squeezing inside him. He let out a sigh.

_I wish you were here. I just want to thank you… Just… something…_

His eyes squeezed shut, and he dipped forward, into almost a kiss, his head still full of thoughts that he could not understand.

It did not feel wrong, not in the way he had expected. It did not make him feel strange, doing as he was doing, eyes closed. Even something so simple as breathing, thinking of his friend being there, next to him, closer than that even, close enough to touch. The thought of his lips meeting Shou’s own only made his heart thrum a little out of rhythm; he did not think of pulling back if the kiss he was imagining would suddenly turn to reality. His hands longed to be able to reach and pull him closer to him, to tell him how he made him dream and think and be happy, just the way he was, and how he had changed him, and how he wanted to tell him what he was feeling for him…

He let out a small groan; not for the pain in his head, but the longing. Still down in a tangle of sheets, he turned to his side, wishing he was not so reliant on glasses.

_…I wish I could tell him. I… I like him, somehow…_

If it really was love, then he was not sure of it. What had pulled him to Judai was difficult to define. He loved the look on his face whenever he smiled, and the way Judai laughed, and how he was always there, no matter how troubled he was. He was not afraid, not like he was of everything in his surroundings. He was bright and cheerful, even when Shou could not be, and that happiness was what Judai spread to him. It was always the small things, from the shine to his eyes to the way his hands would brush against Shou’s whenever they rolled and kneaded the melonpan dough each time they baked. He had grown to love those small things, and not even something as silly as Judai’s dislike of tea felt alien to him any more.

He did not need it, and he did not want it to be. It had been silly, to want to scowl at him at the beginning simply because he had, and always would prefer coffee. He did not mind that Judai was different, because Judai was Judai, just as he was, and he felt for him because of those things.

_Yes, he decided. Maybe it’s true. Maybe I really am… feeling…_

“Are you tired? Shall I leave you to sleep?”

He almost jerked up in surprise at the sound of the voice. His thoughts really had taken over. Shou did not realise that until it was a little too late, when the smell of hot tea began to tickle his nostrils, and Ryou had already made his way back into the room, standing in the doorway with the tray in his hands.

“N-no!” He bolted, sitting straight up as quickly as he could muster. It meant biting back a little ache when he moved, but it was better than having his brother get the wrong impression.

He blushed, realising the conclusions his brother could have jumped to. “I’m all right. I was just… thinking…”

Ryou took a few steps closer, no longer standing outside the room. He sat down on the bed, hands holding on to the warm cup of tea on his tray, careful not to spill as Shou moved underneath, trying not to kick him as he made himself a little more comfortable. He did not ask anything else, only saying a simple, “Here,” and passing the tray once Shou settled.

The scent of chrysanthemum flowers danced in the air, a little stonger than Shou was used to brewing for himself, but he did not mind. Gently, hoping it would not burn his hands, he reached out and touched the cup. It was warm, slowly cooling.

“Thank you,” he said with relief. Ryou only gave a slight nod as he took the cup in both hands and sipped gently, tasting the flavours.

_There’s honey in this. Did he know?_ Shou wondered for an instant, before remembering his brother’s own training. His father had taught him almost the same things before the worst of the fighting had torn them apart. Ryou had remembered.

He took in the heat as he drank, feeling the faint sweetness on his tongue and letting it soothe the dry ache of his throat.

“Pleasant?” Ryou asked after a few seconds of quiet.

Shou stopped, the cup keeping his hands warm in between sips. “Yes. You added honey, right?”

“Yes. It’ll help.”

“Thank you,” Shou repeated in gratitude. Ryou being here was already making things better, even if Judai was not. He was not alone, and there were some things that his brother did understand, after years under one roof. He had remembered the extra spoonful of honey that Shou had always favoured when he was ill, and he had brought it in Shou’s favourite cup, one that did not bear the tell-tale chip that seemed to cut his father’s lip at times when he drank from his own.

How their father never seemed to care for the blood that welled up and smeared on the china still scared him somewhat.

“…I heard you were doing something for the September festival.” His brother’s voice came suddenly.

Shou almost spilled the contents of the cup in his hands. “Huh? Did - did Judai tell you that?”

He could not think of another explanation. How long Ryou had managed to speak to Judai for, he was not quite sure. He did not even know how long he had been out for. His chance to ask about it was gone, and the only clue he had was the clock on the wall; at least four hours, he realised, if the clock had not stopped.

“He did. He said you were talking about it when you fell ill.”

“Yes…” Shou admitted, hiding his blush by looking down and staring only at the light that pooled in the warm-coloured liquid in his cup. It took him away, just for a few moments, making him think of the sparkle of certain brown eyes. “I don’t want Dad to know, though.”

Ryou shook his head. His hand brushed against Shou’s shoulder, and he looked up, both with hope and surprise, unprepared for the feeling. In all the years he had known his brother, he had never thought of him as affectionate.

“I won’t.” It did not sound like a lie.

“…Sure?”

Ryou gave a quaint nod. “I promise. And don’t worry, he isn’t home right now. I got Mother to distract him. They’ll be out for at least an hour more.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief, and Shou could not help but mirror him. The thought of being alone - actually alone, without his father’s shadow stalking around the house - felt like a cooling wave that washed through his soul.

“If you don’t want to tell me what you’re doing, then I won’t mind. I understand that it’s clearly something important to you.”

“It… it is. I’m doing it together with Judai,” Shou confessed, a little too fast for his brain to process what he had blurted out. He cringed, looking back at his cup. The confession felt strange on his tongue.

_Is he going to say something?_ He hoped not. _He doesn’t need to know what I think about Judai._

The embarrassment as he repeated it to himself, once again, was still a little too much. 

There was not much silence between them. “That’s good,” was all that Ryou said, calmly and pleasantly, so much that it made Shou’s eyes widen a little.

There was no laughter, and there never would be, Shou reminded himself. Ryou had never been the mocking kind. His brother had inherited some of of their father’s coldness, but not the sharp dagger-looks that made him shiver each time. He could be merciful, and Shou was grateful for it, as grateful as he was that Judai had come into his life.

Ryou had accepted something, even if he knew nothing about it. Something inside of Shou told him that he was safe. Their parents were not there, their father far out of reach even just for a while. The house was silent. Amaruya was shut. All was at peace.

He would have time.

“Ryou?”

“Hm?” His brother looked back, eyes still somewhat softer.

It really was time, he thought; now or never. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the chance that he would come to regret it.

“How much do you know about the past?”

“The past of what?”

“This place. Everything. About - about _Grandfather.”_

Ryou’s eyes widened at the mention of what he had come to know as taboo in the house. Shou swallowed.

His heart began to beat faster, as if he had broken into a run. He could not restrain it. His hands twitched, sliding on the surface of the familiar cup to try and find reassurance.

“Don’t tell me,” Ryou said, almost whispering. His eyebrows were raised as he shook his head slightly, but in his eyes, Shou could not see any true disbelief. In the years he had lived in one house with his brother, he had come to know his eyes, and learned of his looks - and Ryou always knew when someone was lying. That look was not there now. “Don’t tell me. You… found something out.”

“I did,” Shou whispered back. “I - no, _we._ We somehow did,” he corrected, mind drifting back to Judai, and that afternoon in the attic, torch in hand and dust threatening to clog up his lungs as the feeling of soreness was now filling and scratching away at his throat.

It was still fresh in his mind. “I could tell you. But don’t tell anyone.”

“I promise, I won’t.”

For the first time in weeks, Shou took a deep breath and let the words spill. He thought back to the beginning, when Kagemaru had talked of the past behind the closed door, and how he had tried to edge out the truth from the old man, and from his father. He told his brother about the incident in the attic, and about the photographs Mizuchi had found somewhere in the depths of the House of Flowers, and the face of the young man that had been their grandfather.

He spoke of the diary, telling Ryou where to reach if he wanted to read it. He watched, keenly so, as Ryou’s fingers, long and careful, turned pages and pages. How his lips would freeze in awe; how he would turn again and again in search of another entry that would trail off into nothing, before he came to the terrible end, to the day Shou himself had come into the world.

He bit back tears when it came to telling the story Kagemaru had shared. The faces in the photograph were still fresh in his mind, no matter how long it had been. Innocent, smiling, they had been around his and Judai’s age. It felt like a stab in the chest, remembering that all three of them were gone. The girl named Adelheid and his grandfather’s best friend were both gone. 

Shou strained at the memory of the certificates. His grandfather had been the last of the three, and he had killed himself.

Judai had been there, and he had read it with him. He had made him the promise, that they would track down a piece of the past, and bring it back, this time making it theirs. For weeks, they had been trying and trying, working out recipes and sharing effort and bread. For all of those weeks, and even before that, Shou thought to himself, he had found himself coming closer to Judai, closer and closer, to the point where he did not know how he felt any more.

His brother did not need to know it. What he could tell him was what he knew of the past.

“And… you’re trying to recreate the melonpan,” Ryou said, after he had finished the explanation. He did not look scared, nor angry, even after all that had been said. At most, the look on his face was a fascinated one. “The kind that they baked all those years ago.”

Shou let out a nod, persevering. “I know it sounds strange, but we’re trying. We want to get it done by September, so we can sell it. To bring back some of the past, but make it ours.”

“Melonpan at a festival? First time I’ve heard of it.”

“I know,” Shou tried to smile, awkwardly so. “But it means a lot. And maybe people will understand. That’s why I’ve got to get better.”

He put the now-empty cup to one side. Shaking his head, he leaned forward, sliding over on the bed to get himself up. It wasn’t pleasant, and his head hurt still as he did it, but the goal was in sight. He had to get up now, he thought. Ryou had kept him enough. He could only hope that Judai would not be mad for leaving him for hours while he slept.

A wide, outstretched arm stopped him in his tracks. Ryou would not move.

“No. You’re staying here. You’re no good in the kitchen if you’re sick. Rest up at least tonight, and then you can get to it.”

“But we don’t have much time,” Shou protested.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not in good form to be cooking. Do I have to tie you down here? Calm down. Why are you so desperate? You’ll have time.”

“It needs to be perfect.”

“For the festival?”

“Yes. That, and…” Shou swallowed, feeling the trembling coming back to his limbs. It was impossible trying to hide; Ryou already knew him inside out, whether he wanted his brother to know him or not. “I’m scared. I have to do things right. If I make a mistake, then… _I’m scared._ Something bad might happen.”

The thought of being alone again, and then being alone for the rest of his life had turned into a nightmare. He needed Judai, and he needed the people around him. He needed the House of Flowers to stay open. He needed the elders and tea with Mizuchi and all of her mirrors, and for the scent of flowers on the road that ran through the cemetery to always be there, year after year, no matter how much dreadful time passed.

Bringing the melonpan back had been asking for trouble, but Judai had convinced him. He had wanted to take on the challenge, deep down. He was just as guilty, he knew. He had decided to step into the past and uproot it.

If what Kagemaru had feared would come true, then Shou knew it would be his own fault.

“What is it? Is it something with Judai?"

It frightened him, down to the core. He had already said too much. It was too late to hold back.

“Yes. Because, Kagemaru-san said we might not be friends for long. Well, it wasn’t to us, but I heard him. That’s how all of this started.”

The confession was painful. Of everyone that he knew, only Shou himself, Kagemaru, Judai and Mizuchi had learned of the prediction. He had spent nights and nights without end, tossing and turning, wishing that it would not come true.

He could not let it. He simply could not. He could feel tears in his eyes. The fear was obsessive.

“…I see.”

“Brother?”

Ryou turned away, just for a moment, as if thinking. What about, Shou could not be sure. Did he believe in the fear? Did his brother believe in what Kagemaru had said? Would he dismiss it all as a joke? Ryou had never been one to believe in superstition. Whenever Shou had come to him, years ago, watery-eyed and unsteady after a bad dream, Ryou had never had much to say.

It had hurt, and Shou had fallen back into bed wishing that someone could help. Help never came. Ryou could not help him.

When he turned back, Shou could not read his expression. His tone was uncertain.

“I think I might see what he meant by that.”

His eyes widened with hope for an instant. “You - you _do?”_

He leaned in to listen, but Ryou only shook his head. His hand gestured at him to sit down, and Shou had no choice. He slunk back into the mess of sheets with a sigh.

Ryou’s hand stayed. “I wouldn’t worry too much. If living with a literature student has taught me anything, it’s that there are always multiple meanings to everything.”

There was something in his eyes that Shou could not discern - something cunning, hiding, wily and secretive as the face of a fox. “What do you mean?”

He let out a groan, desperate. The truth was within reach.

The look on his brother’s face stayed. “I think that’s up to you two to find out. But keep that to yourself for now. Don’t let it shake you.”

It was easier said than done. Thinking about it was painful. Shou knew he could not let it slip by.

“What do you mean it’s up to us?”

“It means you’ve got to keep going,” Ryou replied.

Before Shou could protest, he had already stood up from the bed and turned back to face him.

“They’ll be back soon. I have to get going, but I’ll try to come back for the festival. I want to see you succeed. And you will. Good luck.”

Shou’s eyes darted back and forth between Ryou and the clock, knowing what it all meant. Deep within, he wished his brother did not have to go. His stomach tensed, torn between asking for more, and letting him leave - they did not have much time, just like his time to finish the recipe would soon run out.

Time was not kind. It would be closing in, coming closer and closer, until there would not be anything left. Time was what had taken away the innocence in the eyes of his grandfather and the other ones in the photographs; it had torn apart Amaruya in ways that he had not been able to even imagine before everything had unfurled out in front of him, before Judai had pulled him into the curiosity and the chaos.

His head was a mess, hurting still and not thinking quite right. Shutting his eyes, not wanting to see Ryou leave, he fell back into the soft comfort that was his pillow, and curled up. He did not want to listen to his brother leave the house and leave him behind, like he always did. He was alone in the room, without anyone, and the house did not seem alive.

For better or worse, he did not know any more; but he was alone again, with only the hope that he would feel better quickly enough for him to leap back into action, into the kitchen. Time was not still. He had to keep going.

He was weak and sick, and Ryou had been right. He needed to rest. All he had was soft silence, and he needed to sleep. Being alone did not hurt, not this time, he decided.

He would be back with Judai soon, back on the job. He would do what he had been trying so hard at, and he would succeed. Ryou would be there. The people of the House were counting on him. Deep down, Judai probably was, too. He had a promise to keep to him too.

_Maybe I like him,_ he thought, fading out into darkness. _As more than a friend. I really do like him._

_It might not be such a burden._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost 8000 words... how did I write this, even looking over it tired me out...
> 
> Leave a comment, I love every one of them!


	17. Ch. 16

_** chapter sixteen. ** _

September swooped in, and brought with it the cold. 

School uniforms changed with the fall of the leaves. The weather forecast told of a colder winter to come. Tokyo’s people had yet to change into sweaters and coats. Soon, Shou knew, they would.

The weather was not the main thing on his mind. He had repacked his bag and dragged himself back to school, day by day, and let the days drag. Summertime, and his days of doing nothing but minding the tea shop, were over. He would see Judai more often, in class, but there was not much else to look forward to. School was stressful and tiring, and work afterwards gave him little respite. Homework was rarely easy. The coming cold was another annoyance. He was already prepared for the fact that he would struggle to sleep when December finally came.

The days were withering, just like flowers.

Box by box on the calendar, each one was bringing him closer to the festival. His heart skipped beats in a panic at the mere mention of it. No matter how hard he tried, time really was running out. 

Fourteen days were left to finish the recipe, he thought one night, lying awake - only two weekends, one lucky Saturday Shou had been able to get off, and two Sundays. All he and Judai would have were those Sundays. He dreaded the feeling.

So it repeated. Fourteen days.

Fourteen days - _make that thirteen, if today doesn’t count,_ he thought on the day after that, on the penultimate Saturday.

_Thirteen, and we can only go down._

Shou had begged his father to let him off, just once. Judai needed help for the festival, he had said, and it had not been a lie. There had been no mention of melonpan. His father had not looked happy, but Shou was let off early that afternoon, only a few hours after the tea had been delivered.

He and Judai were alone in the back of Miracle Fusion. The cafe was shut for the entire day. Judai’s parents had left for the airport to pick up Judai’s American grandparents.

Judai had asked to stay behind. His mother had not minded. Eri had grown used to their bread-baking rituals, and was far from strict when it came to the use of the kitchen, as long as it was clean.

The space had been theirs for a while. Another batch of bread dough was in the works. Still, Shou could not shake off the frustration. They would have to stop once Judai’s family came home. Eri and her husband had told him that he could stay, but he had refused to. It would not be polite, he knew; he was not their family, and Judai would most likely want to see his grandfather and grandmother, and that took priority. Even if his mind itched with questions, still curious about what Judai had said about his grandfather, and the possibility there in front of him, that afternoon would not be the time. 

He would meet with them another time, he knew. The family would take Judai’s grandparents to Amaruya. Then, he had to remind himself, he would get time. They would go to Sapporo and then come back, in time for the festival, and then he would have all the time in the world.

_The festival,_ he thought with dread in his heart. He punched the bread dough in frustration. _The damn festival. One more weekend after this one…_

They did not have much time, no matter how hard they were trying.

He gave a sigh, looking down at helpless hands somewhat sticky with dough and caked with crumbling flour. The clock was ticking louder and louder the more he focused on it. His heartbeat would not slow, either.

“Tired? I get you, so am I…”

Judai let out a moan, giving the dough in his hands one more knead. He was not lying. Shou could see his eyes fluttering open and shut as he worked. How hard Judai had been trying for all of these weeks, he could not begin to describe - probably even harder than himself, he thought, as he put his own ball of dough down, and covered the bowl.

Shou gave a quaint nod back. He did not need words. Eyeing the dough he had left in the bowl, he pushed it aside. It would need time alone to rise, besides.

_No more, not now,_ he thought. _Enough. Enough. I don’t care._ He needed the rest, and so did Judai.

His friend did the same. That was the sign. He could relax.

Shou could not help but smile, ever so slightly, in the midst of fatigue. Judai had read his mind, somehow, and he followed suit. His hair was still its usual mess, and his father had not stopped degrading it at every opportunity. He had grown sick of the insults - he did not care for looking like a girl, and he did not think it looked as bad as his father would state, tugging at handfuls of it with bone-tough fingers, tearing out strands as he drew out one of a handful of hairclips.

“How many did you bring this time?” Judai asked, smirking.

Shou looked back, mirroring his smile as he pulled out a clip. “Ten, I think? I can’t remember.”

It had become something of a joke between them, and no matter how much his father complained, Shou had started to find it a little funny.

He had asked Judai about his hair once. _It suits you,_ he had said, and Shou did not think of objecting. He did not know himself, but it did not matter to him. He had long since stopped caring for the need for elastics and clips when he was working or cooking. Some part of him was even brave enough to laugh at his own reflection, wondering how many clips he had left in the mess of his mane after forgetting to take every single one of them out.

His father complained, but it would not last. In the end, he would go back to his usual rituals. He drank tea from the usual cup and did not wince if the crack cut his lip. He would sift through the shop’s earnings and write everything down, every yen-coin exact. Under the daylight, Shou had grown used to seeing him outside, too, sweeping and sweeping at the path outside Amaruya. As clean and pristine as it looked, something about was never enough.

There was nothing wrong with the path, he had thought. The charring from the fire months ago had long since been cleaned. The youths that had started the fire had never showed up. _Good riddance_ , his father had said.

It had not been enough to stop him coming out to sweep whenever he had the time, cursing down at the ground with both broom and water and every chemical under the sun.

He could not help but worry a little, thinking back to it as he pulled out the last of the clips. His hair fell and trail, tickling his neck as it did.

“Yeah, seriously. It really does suit you. Kinda cute, you know?” Judai grinned.

Shou paused, trying hard to conceal the blush on his cheeks. “You think?”

“Yup. I can’t imagine you with proper short hair.”

“What if I grew it out long?”

“Try it. You never know.”

“What if I look stupid?” 

“Then, well, you’ll have tried.” 

Shou let out a laugh. 

The last time his father had forced him to cut his hair had been a long time ago. He had protested, even then, but it had meant nothing. No matter how much he complained and cried out, it had been cut in the end, and that had been the pattern for years; but for months now, his father had barely had the energy to insist. He would moan about it whenever he noticed Shou playing with a stray lock, absent-mindedly, or when one of his many hairclips fell with a clink to the floor, but he would not shout, nor would he forcefully grab him, as he had once, hard enough strands to be torn out.

He could not say he missed it. Time had passed by, and he was older now. Maybe that’s why, he thought. His father had not been so harsh on Ryou when he had not cut his hair either, even if his brother’s hair was sleeker and smoother, unlike his own thick, unruly mane.

He could remember himself with short hair, but had no fond memories of it. “I like it better this way.”

As long as it did not get in the way of their baking, Eri had had no issues with it. That had bought with it a sigh of relief. Eri was warm and kind, like Judai himself; far from the distance and cool of Shou’s family.

He could only hope that his father had not found out the truth about the melonpan, not with so little time left to the day. 

Coming home had became painful again; not so much because of his father, but because of the clock and the calendar, and seeing both, or either of them, made worry rush into his head and send shocks to the heart. Time was not kind. It would not be. He had been marking down another one of the monotone boxes one evening. It had only pushed him closer to the edge that night. The day before, he had only been more frustrated. 

His head told him to work harder. His hands clenched tight with stress and exhaustion. He needed a break. Looking back, he hoped Judai had stopped for the same reason. They had finished the bread dough. The topping could come later. 

“You tired?" 

His eyes widened. Judai understanding him so easily was something he had not bargained for. 

Still, it was far from unpleasant. “Yeah,” he nodded, smiling softly.

“Well, let’s rest up. We’re done for a while.” 

He let out a yawn as he tugged at the ties of his apron, tossing it over the top of one of the chairs at the back of the room and flopping down on the one next to it. His gaze drifted up at the ceiling. Hands sank and clenched at the firmness of the chair’s legs, hoping for comfort. He clenched and unclenched.

The fatigue inside was refusing to leave. 

He could only hope that the next time he would stand up, he would not ache as much. He was not sick, not this time, but he was exhausted again, as he was every school week, with homework and shop work and the rest of his life piling up. 

Not even Judai just being there was enough to heal him, not quite. As much as his heart leapt at the thought of being close to him, it would not rid him of simple fatigue.

_Love doesn’t cure everything,_ he thought. _But it is kind of nice when we’re together like this._

It still made him cringe, looking back. _What do I see in him?_ He had asked himself one evening, staring at the ceiling in his room, diary in his hands like a close confidante.

_It’s my friend, of all people,_ he thought with a blush. Judai’s my friend. _He’s silly and strange, and… he’s not a girl. I like girls, right?_

The images in his head, and the voices, thought otherwise.

_What does it matter?_

Deep down, maybe it did not mean that much; not like he had thought at the beginning.

Eyes shut, all he could think of was the spark in his voice and the care in his hands as they had worked the bread dough together. Judai really was strange, he knew - both loud and soft, and patient and impulsive and silly. How one person could be like that, he did not understand, but that was the way his friend was - unpredictable and exciting and… yes, kind of _handsome_ somehow, he thought, hoping Judai would not ‘read his mind’ this time.

The more he considered it, in the depths of his heart, it was not something he really minded.

He turned back to Judai, seeing him slump down next to him. The feeling of his arm, reaching and wrapping around his shoulders made him jump. Judai only let out a small laugh, seeing his face. Shou could not help but do the same.

Judai’s own apron was in his hands. Seeing that Shou had moved his, Judai tossed it over his head to land on top of it. One of the ties hit the top of Shou’s hair, but he did not register it.

“Sorry about that!” Judai smiled, somewhat unapologetically.

Shou’s expression mirrored his, going along. It had not hurt, besides; and there was something so contagious about the way his friend smiled that he could not stop himself. “No, it’s all right,” he smiled back, one hand rubbing at the back of his head. It did not hurt, but it was a reflex, and one that he did not try to restrain.

“Sure?” 

“I’m sure, don’t worry!”

Judai tipped his head, unconvinced. “You looked kinda beat earlier. Sure you’re fine?”

“I - I’m sure!” Shou insisted. “It’s not like that time.”

This time, it was the truth.

“Did you sleep all right last night?”

Shou swallowed. He thought of telling Judai of the night before, and how he had stared for hours on end at the ceiling, debating if it was worth telling him how he felt. Judai did not need to know, not really - but the thought of it, that he had these quiet feelings for him, was already an unpleasant weight on his chest.

_No,_ he reminded himself. _Think about Kagemaru._ They had two weeks until the festival. Things had to stay calm until then.

_Two weeks, and then…?_ He shook his head, trying hard not to think about it. 

“Not really,” he admitted. “I couldn’t sleep for a while. There were noises outside.”

Sometimes, Shou was sure that he really was hearing something outside in the night. He could only hope it was not the youths his father had been complaining about. Another fire outside was the last thing Amaruya needed. His father was already stressed out enough.

“Get an early night if you can, then. That’s what Mom always says,” Judai replied. His doubt had faded away. The look on his face was much more relaxed now. He stretched out his arms as he let out a yawn, and something about it made Shou think of Yanaka’s resident cats. “But really, don’t worry. It’ll all be all right. I mean, we’re doing great with the recipe. I really liked that last batch we did.”

Had he realised? Shou knew he was a terrible liar. Hiding stress for him was like hiding an elephant in a closet. Trying hard not to blurt out too much, he went with the topic. “With the syrup?” 

“Yeah, that worked out amazing!” Judai exclaimed. “If this week’s does the same, I think we should keep that.”

“That sounds good,” he agreed. He could still recall the taste of last week’s baking when he closed his eyes and thought hard. If it was not the same as his grandfather’s recipe, then it would not matter, he hoped; he had loved that bread enough to want to take it and share it with the elders and workers of the House of Flowers, just to see the same smiles around him.

It saddened him, wishing they had made more. What they had made last time was eaten too quickly. Sharing it with Judai’s family was the first step. One day, he decided, they would make enough for the House, and take their bread there. They would make it with pride, and give out enough for everybody to have some, twice over.

His chest bloomed with warmth at the thought of seeing so many people so happy.

“Hey, you sure you don’t want to stay when Grandpa comes?” Judai’s call interrupted the fantasy.

Shou stopped and thought, before shaking his head. “He’s your family. Not mine. It isn’t polite.” 

No matter how much Judai would insist, or Eri would allow, he knew it could not be right. He did not know Judai’s grandparents. It made no sense for him to be there, for him to be in a home that was not his to greet people who had come from so far to see those they were related to - to see those that they loved, he reminded himself. Judai had his own relatives, and Shou had his own. It would be interfering.

Shou had his father and mother, and his faraway brother. He thought back to his illness in August, and the day he had seen Ryou for the first and last time that summer. 

_Will you really be there?_  

His brother had promised to come to the festival, even if it meant travel for hours all the way from Kyoto. Ryou was not one to break promises. 

_I’ll see what you’ve done,_ Ryou had said in a message. _I’ll see what you’ve managed to bring back from the past._

Shou sighed, eyes squeezing shut. He had to try hard, for Ryou and for everyone else. He had to try for the sake of the House, and the petition Mizuchi had written up for her brother. They would bring all of the papers, and Shou would provide the incentive.

Nobody ever had melonpan at a festival. It would make them unique. It would draw eyes to their cause, Mizuchi had said, eyes shining with confidence. She had been working hard, too. The signatures she had already gathered filled up more than a few sheets, and with the festival, they would fill up even more.

_We’re going to do this - for everyone, for the House, for my grandfather, for both of us. We have to. We have to._

Thirteen days were left to the festival. Thirteen days until that day - and _fourteen,_ Shou realised as he thought, to the anniversary of his grandfather’s suicide.

He had not realised, not until Judai had pointed it out, that he had stopped thinking of September 25th as his birthday. It had taken on a new form in his mind, like a monster, not as much clawing as it was scraping and scratching, not letting go and refusing to let the thought of it drift out of himself. 

Never had he expected to spend lonely nights clutching the book in his hands, heart thrumming in a broken rhythm against it, and crying. 

His grandfather was dead and gone and no longer there. He had turned into ash and smeared into nothing more than a blur in the past, but the connection Shou felt was unbreakable, almost impossible. He was not brave enough to tell anyone else of that connection, and he would not be, no matter how hard he tried. 

When Judai had held him for comfort, the words in the diary bright in his mind after a night’s worth of bad dreams, his heart had nearly stopped in its tracks.

_No,_ he shook his head, still too tired to think clearly. _I can’t keep thinking about him like that, can I? I’m only his friend, and Kagemaru said we might not be friends any more if we try something risky…_

Judai had changed him, so much. He could not begin to think of how he could tell him everything. Telling one thing would lead to another, he knew, and he would not be able to stop himself. The truth would come out, and he dreaded the feeling.

Judai would find out the truth. What would he think of him, knowing he had feelings for him? 

He did not want to think about not being friends any more. Kagemaru had been right. He was sure of it. One step out of line, and that would be pulling the trigger. He did not want to lose Judai. At the cost of a secret, he would deal with it. He would stay with him, and things would be fine. 

_It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine…_  

“Doesn’t matter. Mom and Dad said it’s all right. Heck, you’re like one of us now!” Judai reached over, more so this time, until his hand could rub against the small of Shou’s back. Heart speeding up, he let out a shiver. As soon as Judai looked over, he knew he needed to hide it.

“I - I’m not. I’m not your family, not really.”

“But you’re my friend. That matters, right?” There was no stopping Judai, not with that spark in his eyes. It was a look that Shou knew. He could not resist it, not if he tried, and he hated it as much as he loved it, deep down.  “I mean, it’s Grandpa. He’s nice. You could try asking him when he’s sat down or something. We could listen to him today if you wanted.”

“But… he’s going to be tired, right? And your grandma will be here…” 

“She’ll be all right. Like I said, we’ll take them to Amaruya tomorrow afternoon, and she’s gonna love it. She is _not_ going to protest, not if we get her all the fancy tea that she likes.”

Shou stopped, leaning back. He was not baffled, but the word was not one that Judai had ever used much. When he spoke of tea, it was too often dismissal, if not a playful insult.

_“Fancy?”_  

“Yeah, what’s the fanciest stuff you have?” 

“Um, well…” Shou blushed, trying to hide the look on his face. The first thing that had come into his mind was the blend he had been making, that his brother had complimented him on; that, looking back, he knew would not have been made without Judai. He had been there, all along, and it had made Shou dream wildly enough for him to want to create it, to make something not even his father knew of, and it was something that he could be proud of, after all of this time…

But it’s embarrassing, he thought, biting his lip through the cringe. _I don’t have a name for it, because I’d end up naming it after you, and you don’t need to know that._  

_Damn it. Why? Damn it. Damn it, why did I…?_

He was about to say something, but it never came out.

The sound of a bell rang through the hallway. 

Shou jumped, having not expected the noise. Judai had already turned around in his seat. 

“Ah, that’ll be Grandpa!” He stood up immediately, beaming with excitement. “Oh man, I’m so excited for this! Maybe we’ll really get something out of him!”

Shou stood up, following. It was ambitious of them to hope. Judai’s grandfather had come from the other side of the country. Whether he had ever set foot in Tokyo was something he was not even sure of. All they had was his age, and perhaps a little knowledge of the war. It would not be likely. 

All they had was one chance. If they did not find what they needed, they would at least listen, and find out another man’s story, Shou reminded himself. He could not afford to be disappointed, not after finding the diary and the photographs, and seeing what felt like a whole other world in his hands.

If Judai would be disappointed, then he did not want to feel the same way. “I… I hope.”

Judai went on like a storm and left him behind. Shou did not need to come and introduce himself. He could not go out. He had to stay there. Once the coast was clear, he would leave. He would go quietly - he could not risk leaving now, not when Judai’s grandparents had entered the place. 

He had to speak to Judai’s grandfather, but he would come and talk to them at Amaruya. They would meet tomorrow, and he would greet them as its shopkeeper. Besides, they did not need to see him in the state he was in he thought. He looked down at his casual clothing, faintly stained with flour from that day’s test batch of melonpan. He did not look proper like this. _I’m a mess,_ he thought. _How am I going to slip out without them seeing me like this?_

His father would shake his head, calling it ‘unacceptable’. Shou did not need his father to remind him again.

“Come on, you coming?”

He did not expect Judai to have stopped. He was calling for him. Shou shook his head.

“What’s up? They’re only my grandparents,” Judai said, walking back to tug at his sleeve. Shou cringed. “They’re not going to judge.”

“I… I still look like hell,” Shou admitted.

“There’s only a bit of flour on your shirt.” 

“Still - “ 

“Aw, come on! It’ll be quick!”

There was no time for Shou to react, or to fight back. Judai had already taken hold of his hand and pulled him along. His legs worked, keeping pace with Judai’s. It was instinct, whether he wanted to show himself or not. 

“Seriously, you’re my friend! You can introduce yourself. They’re not going to mind. We'll be talking to Grandpa later anyway.” 

Judai gave him a quick glance back. In the half-darkness of the corridor, Shou couldn’t make out much, but he hoped that Judai was still smiling.  He sighed. He could only hope he would not be ridiculed. Forcing himself to push out his shopkeeper’s habits was far harder than he had expected.

Judai took the lead for a moment, letting go of his hand. He looked back and whispered at him to stay, while he marched on ahead.

Slowly, carefully, he peered out from the corner, seeing Eri in one corner alongside Judai’s father. The latter was home earlier, but still fresh out of work. His silver-grey shirt was slightly rumpled, his glasses dangling around his neck. By the door, amongst a hotchpotch of bags and suitcases, were two elderly people - Judai’s grandparents, Shou knew, from the jumble of both English and Japanese in the air, coming from all of the family members.

Both were white-haired, Judai’s grandfather balding and bearded, thick frames around his small eyes, leaning on a walking stick. His grandmother - Western, he saw, just as Judai had said - stood out, silver-white hair cropped short and one brooch bright on her cardigan. Even she was conversing in Japanese. Her accent was strange, far stronger than that of either Eri and Judai.

For a few minutes, they both looked around, Eri’s gesturing making Shou think that she was telling them of the business. It was strange, he thought, to see Miracle Fusion so empty. He had not seen it like this since the first time he had come to the place, when Misawa and Manjoume had argued, and when he had first sampled the Yuki family cake.

He could not help but think of the melonpan. His stomach grumbled in protest, and he hoped it not been too loud.

He was about to retreat into the back room when Judai looked back, just in time.

“Oh, hey, Grandpa, I want you to meet someone…”

Shou froze. _Damn it, no, you aren’t…_

There was no getting away now. He would have to face Judai’s grandfather - someone who could be pivotal - even if his shirt was stained with flour, and his hair was unruly. His heart raced with oncoming panic.

There was no way out of it now. He breathed once again, before stepping into the light of the cafe front. Eri and Judai both stared at him, smiling. He had to look back.

“This is my friend, Shou,” Judai said, looking back at his grandparents. “He’s from around here, too.”

His grandfather turned towards Shou, glancing slowly. The corners of his mouth, wrinkled and worn, curved into a smile. His chest rose with low laughter.

“Good to see that, huh,” the old man said, eyes weary with time, leaning forward a little with his hand on the walking stick. “Good that you’ve got yourself a friend, right?”

“Yeah, it’s been great!” Judai nodded.

“Ah, well. That’s good to hear. Come on, Alice…”

The old man reached to brush his wife’s shoulder. The touch was enough to make her jerk up in surprise. “Here. Judai’s made a friend. Have a look. He’s a good lad, isn’t he?”

The woman’s eyes widened.

“Grandma?” Judai called out.

“Oh… no, it’s all right. I thought I saw something,” she said, hiding an obvious tremble.

Shou could not help but worry. Was he really that bad-looking? Was the flour staining his clothes that badly? He had been right. He looked terrible, bad enough to scare a fragile old woman.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not wanting to alarm her again. “I was baking something, and I didn’t get time to change clothes. I’m sorry, I’ll be going now…”

“Hey, stay a while!” Judai called back.

Shou shot him a look, as if to plead to let him go and make himself decent. Judai ignored it. “Sorry, Grandma. This is my friend, Marufuji Shou, and he - “

There was a loud gasp, almost a scream.

Judai’s grandmother had frozen again. Her mouth was agape. “No…”

“No? No _what?_ What’s wrong? Grandma?”

“No. _No._ It isn’t…”

She tried to take a step back and almost tripped on a suitcase, her foot dragging it back with her as she stepped back and back until she hit the wall, her palms pressing down for comfort. 

There was a ghost in her eyes.

“Alice? Alice, what’s wrong?”

Before Shou could say anything, Judai’s mother had already darted to the old woman’s side, arm coming to wrap around her back for support.

“It can’t be. It can’t,” she repeated.

_“Mother?”_

“Grandma, are you all right?” Judai tried to approach her, briefly looking back to make sure Shou was still there. “He’s my friend, he won’t do anything bad. You haven’t met him before. Shou’s - ” 

“No.” The woman shook her head, on and on. Her eyes had widened to saucers. Her chest heaved under her blouse and cardigan, so much that Shou urged himself to step back. The look in her eyes was wild. “No. It can’t be.”

“Alice?”

“What’s happened?”

“It can’t be. He died.”

“Who died? Grandma? What’s happened?”

“He… he died. Marufuji… that name, I know him, he died…”

Alice continued to struggle, leaning back on her daughter and son-in-law. She had turned as white as a sheet. Shou almost bit his tongue with the fear.

“He died… the war, he died, both of them died…”

“Alice? Please, calm down, it’s all right.”

“Mother?”

_“Alice!”_

The panic continued. Shou found himself torn between running and staying. Bit by bit, his mind was putting the pieces together.

It was impossible, he thought - but it was happening.

He had no idea of what seized him so suddenly. His hands were shaking again. He could not think straight - _was not_ thinking straight, he realised, as soon as he blurted out the one word that had begun to thrash about in his mind. It was one mad, unpredictable thing that he could not stop coming. It was only one word, one instinct that could not be held back.

It was one name.

_“…Adelheid?"_

**_end of act two_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there goes the bomb.
> 
> [An image of Judai's grandfather](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k7RYJbWgXbk/TWTwx2zagII/AAAAAAAAAKE/gBZNm_1L3p8/s1600/Red%252BHerring.gif)
> 
> Please leave a comment!


	18. Interlude II

**_ interlude two - there is love in the world _ **

The sky above Tokyo was a pale, almost uncoloured grey.

As he looked up, Satoru could not help but compare it to an incomplete drawing. If God, or the forces of nature, had been a child, then that child had attempted to draw the sun, but failed in the process, and crumpled up the white sheet of the sky, smearing graphite marks, and breaking up the smoothly-toned paper into a mess of pale and dark and white.

The sun was completely concealed.

He sighed. His hands were dirtied somewhat, even after attempting to clean them. They were dirtied with the effort of journeying out and about, halfway through Tokyo, but the longer he looked, the more the dirt on his hands brought back thoughts grey skies that had been up elsewhere, and where his hands had been sullied with dust of a different kind.

It was as if his time away from Amaruya was divine punishment - for every day he had spent with the dark ocean around him, his hands would take on the same grey as the railings he leaned on, and the murky, dull scent of the quarters. It had been far from what his heart desired to smell, and to taste - far from the place he had been bound to since birth, and far from where he wanted to be, smelling a field’s worth of herbs and flowers again.

The grass below him, earth damp under his hands, gave him no consolation. He clutched at the blades, handful by handful, pulling them out. It was no use. It would not be the same. _Grass_ did not look the same.

“Hey,” the voice beside him called, far warmer than the dull sky and grass.

_“Hm?”_

“I know, it’s hard. I’m just as tired of it as you are.”

Satoru turned. The kind eyes of his dearest friend looked back as he shuffled closer to him, closing the gap between them on the hillside.

_“I just…_ I just don’t want things to be like this anymore,” he confessed.

“I know. I want things to be running again. I want to go back and see it, just like it was.”

The eyes of Amamiya Tarou were soft, unlike the sharp gaze that seemed to run through Satoru’s own family. He had envied them, once - when a small child had fled on sight of him, years ago, scared that Satoru was about to snap at him.

He had done no such thing.

****Tarou’s family had eyes of a different kind. Only when Satoru had found himself staring deeply into them had he spotted traces of gold, and amber, and jet in the brown. Tarou’s eyes were his father’s eyes, that of the Amamiya - but his smile, Satoru had heard it said, was just like that of his mother. When the woman had passed on, far too early, it was as if a small light had gone out in Yanaka, and would never return.  
****

Tarou was beautiful.

Satoru had told him, more than once, and he wanted to say it again. They were alone, with only the whispering grass and the grey of the sky. The slope of the hill was theirs. They could finally rest up and breathe after hours of work, somewhere where the ground did not rock, and there was no screeching of sea birds and guns. They could speak to each other, saying whatever without a soul hearing it and saying a thing. Even if it was not for long, this place was their sanctuary.

The way Tarou’s eyes shone when he smiled brought light to Satoru’s being. Even if it was not always genuine - and he could tell, he had learned to - he could still praise him for trying, and for keeping his spirits up through the rain.

Even Tarou - wonderful, smiling, handsome and beautiful Tarou - had not been unscathed by the words on the streets and the radio, and the missing girl that still ran through both of their minds, the ghost of her holding their hands and laughing until they woke from their dreams in each other’s arms.

“You miss Adelheid,” Satoru said.

“I know. I do. But I have you. You’re important.”

“But _she_ isn’t here.”

She had not been with them since they had come back to Yanaka. Her house was abandoned, the family gone with no address. The last they had heard was two years ago, when she had passed on vague, frightened words through a crumpled, well-travelled letter. The postmark had been from the end of the year before.

Once, they had tried sending a letter back to Yanaka, having scrounged every small thing that they had. Whether the letter had made it, they did not know. Adelheid had not answered.

“Just because she isn’t here doesn’t mean it’s the end. You’re just as important, you know that?”

_“…I love you.”_

Satoru wished he could swallow back the words as soon as he had heard them out loud. He cringed, turning away almost immediately. It felt strange - guilty, even - saying those words to his best friend, no matter how many times.

It hurt. He hated himself for saying too many things. Deep down, some part of him feared that Tarou hated him, too, just as he did at times.

The slap he would have given himself never came.

He did not expect Tarou to wrap his arm around his back. Fingers caressed his shoulder blade through his clothing. He closed his eyes, ever so slightly, enjoying the feeling. Tarou was warm; far warmer than him in this weather.

“…I know. And I’m thankful,” Tarou said. “You’re my everything too. You’re my world to me.” He leaned in, head resting on Satoru’s shoulder. He gave him a nuzzle, making Satoru shiver with surprise and the feeling of a cold nose on his neck. He did not care any longer for the dirt on his friend’s face as it rubbed against him.

His heart beat wildly in the arms of his friend. Tarou’s hands were playful and gentle, both at once and in alternation. How he had found his solace in his presence, he was not sure. It was everything, he thought - _everything_ , from the comfort his scent brought to his limbs to the soothing sound of his voice. It was the small things, and he knew it; the small things were what he was living for. He lived for the trust they had in each other, and the courage he gave him, and the comfort of Tarou’s sweet, earthy scent against his own, flesh against flesh.

“I… I promise. I’ll love you until the end,” Satoru murmured, leaning back into his embrace. His hand wandered, finding Tarou’s own. Their fingers slid between one another. Tarou clutched back.

“And I’m grateful for that. I love you too. I love you so much.”

He could not say that he had desired Adelheid. She had been a beautiful girl. Even in his eyes, she had been fair. Her eyes - he could remember them still - had been bright like the sky in summer, her spirit like sunshine. Her hands had been warm and her eyelashes long. Her lips had always been soft on his cheek.

He had not longed for her. He had held her in his ams, and he had held Tarou, too. It had been was enough. He loved her still. She had given him laughter.

The days had been strange without Adelheid there, before they had turned into weeks. Adelheid had been one of _them._ She had been irreplaceable, and essential, and full of love. She had been sharing that love, and that love was what he had sworn to give back to her for the rest of their lives.

He did not desire her - _could not desire her_ , he knew, and had known for years - but he did not need desire. He needed more of her being there; he needed _all that she was_ , and what she had been had made her part of his _everything._

“You loved Adelheid. You still do,” Satoru said, sighing.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tarou replied. “I love you just as much.”

Satoru could not begin to guess if his friend was telling the truth. He had always been strange, in his own way. He had been the kind to smile, no matter what pain he was in or how dire the outlook seemed. He was like Adelheid in some ways - both of them could be so innocent, so child-like and… _beautiful,_ he admitted. Tarou had always been there, and he had always given him happiness, of more than one kind.

He let himself breathe and relax in his arms. Weary muscles leaned in. Satoru sighed, trying to clear his mind of a hard day at work. The smell of town smoke clung to his skin, still. It was far from the pleasant tea-scent of Amaruya; the place he so loved, that he had seen close up at the hands of Tarou’s father. Until they had done with their renovations, and there were smiles on the faces around them again, it would not be the same.

Tea was something the people would have, but not the money, or sense, to give themselves luxuries, not after months of famine and silence.

When they had come home, the sight of Yanaka had been a blessing itself. The place was undamaged, a little dusty and somewhat marred by the sight of bone-thin dogs and cats scratching around for something to eat. The people Satoru had known had fared little better. Not long ago had people started to see more than plain rice in their bowls, and the colour was welcome - welcomed with happiness after the silence of hunger.

Tarou had hoped for recovery. They were lucky, he’d told him one night, still tangled up in one futon. The worst was not in Yanaka, but far out beyond.

The day he had heard of Hiroshima, Tarou had cried. Satoru swallowed, remembering.

“…Tarou?” 

Satoru whispered, long fingers reaching up to caress his jaw. Tarou turned his gaze. Satoru’s heart hastened at the strange look in his eyes.

“What is it?” Tarou asked, his hands still firm on his back.

“What happens if we’re all alone now, like this?” Satoru’s heart seized as he said it. There was no stopping him now. The words had come out. “I mean, what I heard on the radio. We have the Americans here. But… do you think she’ll come back?”

He choked back the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “It’s over. All of it’s done, but… what’s going to happen to us? To everyone?”

When word came that the war was to be stopped, he had fallen to his knees. His heart had beaten hard enough that he feared it would burst. He had thought of the blue skies of home, of walking on familiar ground - of the end of the sea, of no more gunfire and deafening commands being barked and no more waking up in the night, sweating and shaking in panic.

The more news he had heard of the war, the more his stomach had twisted up with anxiety. He had hated the drills and the orders, and the fear that clouded his heart and his stomach each night. War had closed down Amaruya. War had almost torn him apart from the people he cared most about. They had been promised an end, but he had seen nothing. The scent of tea was gone, and Yanaka, he had feared, had been taken with it.

There was no purpose to war, Satoru had thought one night, curled up alone, the sway of the ship making him sick. _None but to make more news, and to make us fight for something not worth much at all. It took us away. It took all that we knew away, and replaced it with hell._

His uniform had been hard to keep clean, their commander impossible to satisfy.

“Don’t worry,” Tarou reassured, speaking softly. His fingers traced lines through the cloth of Satoru’s shirt. “We’re doing well as we are. We’ll be back up soon. Like we were back then, right?”

He could not stop Satoru shuddering in his grasp. Hope was not enough, he knew - not by far.

“What happens if it doesn’t work out? What if we have to give it all up? What if things don’t get better now? We’ve already lost Adelheid.”

“If there’s just two of us left, then we live. We won’t let her be forgotten. We haven’t lost her - not yet.” Tarou said back. “Maybe, one day, she’ll come back to us. She’ll come back, and we’ll never let go of each other again.”

Satoru tried to think of something to say back, through the distortion of tears in his eyes. He was bad with speaking and better with writing. Whenever his thoughts came out of him through his tongue, they were panicked and scared. He had no paper now; all he had was the chance to say something, and that he could barely do. The thought of being alone terrified him. His throat quaked, raw and aching.

His hands gripped tighter at Tarou’s shoulders. “I… I want that too,” he said, his voice heavy. “I just… I don’t know…”

Tarou whispered back, pressing into his neck. Hot breaths sent shivers through Satoru. “I don’t ever want to go away. I love you. Both of you…”

He, too, was beginning to sob. Satoru felt his heart seize again. Tarou guided his arm - the same arm he had comforted him with, Satoru thought -and pulled him even closer to him. Satoru’s head leaned into his chest, his hands reaching for Tarou’s back and stroking it gently.

“I know,” Tarou whispered, so close that Satoru barely heard, even though he was no stranger. “I know, you’re scared. But I promise. I love you. We’ll be together. Here and now.”

Satoru shook. He did not know what to say. He did not want to further upset him, and he was clumsy with words. Tarou was already crying.

Tarou could soothe anyone. He had that strange power, to bring a smile to anyone’s face and give anyone a reason to stay alive. He remembered Tarou holding him, too; just like he held Adelheid, he had held him as he cried, scared that he would be alone and unloved. Tarou had told him, time and time again, that he loved him. 

He had loved Adelheid, too. One day, when the war ended, they would be married. Tarou had promised it. They would be together for life.

He was already bound to Tarou, and had been from the beginning. His family, and Tarou’s, were tied like tethers, inseparably so. However many generations it had been, those generations would carry on. He would be married, too, and his son would work alongside Tarou and Adelheid’s child, and so it would continue.

He had not wanted to feel what he felt for him. He had cried thinking that he had been cursed. Tarou had wiped the tears from his eyes. He had given him life. He had given him more than his hands; more than soft, gentle eyes and strong fingers. When he had begged Tarou to make love to him for the first time, he had given it to him, willingly so, throats raw with dust and filth and limbs weary with work, but neither had cared for it as much as they had cared for the small gift of passion they had shared in the dark of the quietened Amaruya.

He was bound twice, by duty and love, and then bound again by Adelheid. He would give everything to keep him and her bound to each other, and to be bound to them in return.

“…Do you want to stay forever?” He asked, crying softly under his breath.

“I do.” Tarou replied. “I do, forever and ever. Absolutely.”

Satoru knew he, too, would fight to help keep the promise. Tarou had been a blessing to him. It had hurt to see him in tears, hurt more than the pain he had felt when he had thought he would never be loved. Adelheid had loved him, enough to agree to be married to him when she was old enough. Satoru, too, had told Tarou that he loved him - enough to spend nights bound together with him in one embrace.

Tarou loved Adelheid, too He had promised to her that he would not touch her, not until they were husband and wife. Adelheid had trusted him back. She had been the first to notice the mistiness in Satoru’s eyes and the strange pain in his lower half - she had known, and not minded, reaching over to kiss him on the cheek and thank him for letting Tarou be happy.

Tarou loved both of them. Adelheid did, too, and he knew it; the proof was in kisses.

Satoru had kissed her, too, enough to make her giggle and kiss him back, on the cheek this time. Those were moments he cherished, too. He cherished Adelheid, for what she was to him, for everything, in a strange form of love he could not explain.

He could not force himself to give up either one of the two people that loved him, because he loved them just as much.

He did not want to give up on love. He would not.

“I… I love you too,” Satoru said out loud, a little red in the face. He could feel his own eyes pricking with tears. His cheeks burned as he cringed at what he was saying.

It would not be hard to keep the promise of love he had made. He had never seen, or known, anyone quite like Tarou. Tarou had given him reasons to live, just as Adelheid had been his sun in the dark, and just like she had given Satoru himself small moments of happiness. What was theirs - or would be theirs, he hoped with all the faith in his heart - would be the future, and all of its colours. He had endured the pain of a grumbling stomach, of wounds and fear and terror and the worst and best kind of news, of being surrounded - of being there, surrounded by grey and blue and by the terrible sea.

If fate would leave him unloved, it would be unjust, but fate would not care. Fate, Tarou had told him one night in the darkness, could kill men, but not tear apart minds. He would carry his memories and make them eternal. If Amaruya would never open its doors again, then such would be fate. What it could not take away was his past.

With his past came his love, entwined and written down in a thousand pages. He would take them with him into the future. He would give love to the world, grateful for the love Tarou had given him.

As he wept, hopeful yet desperate, he prayed into the darkness, not to a God but into his lover’s chest. He prayed for Amaruya to open again, happy and bright. He prayed for Adelheid to come back to them, even if the core of his being told her the girl that had loved him was dead. He prayed - and he begged, and he wished, and he swore, more than anything else, to never forget her name and her eyes and the spring of the curls and waves in her hair.

Even with the grey of the world choking him, he was sure of there still being love in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. [Some music for the mood of this chapter.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cvtd7kG_B8U) Lay back, listen (and read the lyrics if you like). 
> 
> 2\. An additional 'side interlude' was written to accompany this. [ Read it if you like on my tumblr.](http://seruspica.tumblr.com/post/162374469823/additional-material-for-melonpan-chronicle)
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me in spite of the sadness, and please leave a comment. They've meant the world to me (and encourage me to keep producing work) so thank you!


	19. Ch. 17

* * *

**act iii. a beautiful graveyard _  
_** _ nobody is ever doomed to repeat history. it repeats only through chance, and good fortune, and terrible mistakes. _

* * *

 

_**chapter seventeen.** _

There was a scream.

Shou bit his lip, clenching his fists. His feet stood anchored down to the ground. For once in his life, he did not feel like running. He could not let himself.

“Adelheid. You’re Adelheid, aren’t you? You’re Adelheid Voss.”

He had not wanted to make the old woman cry out, but it was proof enough, and it pushed him. He could not stop himself saying it. Her name danced on his tongue, both strange and familiar, knocked around side-to-side with the accent he had not been able to rid himself of - but it was her. She was real. He was certain of it. It had been an impossible guess, but the truth had come out in the scream.

In the midst of the shouting and panic was the hushed croak of her husband. The knees of the old man, unsteady on his feet, threatened to collapse under him. He clung to the walls. His glasses teetered on the edge of his nose, far from steady as he tried to speak, but was drowned out.

“Alice? _Dear… Alice?”_

“Mother?”

_“Alice? Alice?”_

_“Mother?_ What’s going…”

Eri clung to the faltering form of her mother as she stepped back, leaning against the wall. The old woman’s eyes were wide as saucers, breaths hitching in panic.

“Oh..."

“Grandma?” Judai was the next to call for her, eyes darting back and forth between his grandmother and Shou, somewhat confused. The same look - that of knowledge, of realisation, the same as Shou’s - still shone bright in his eyes. “Calm down, please, Grandma…”

 

“Dear Go- I just… I can’t, I c-can’t…” She was shaking like a leaf now, on the verge of losing control. The sound of gasping was enough to make Shou’s own throat tingle with soreness.

Her body gave way, eyes flaring shut. She gave a soft cry of surprise, before she went limp in the arms of her daughter and grandson.

Judai’s gaze flickered between Shou, vivid with disbelief, and the state of his grandmother. His chest heaved with concern. The body of the old woman in his arms lay still. Her chest heaved, as if battling fever.

Shou froze, eyes fixed on the unconscious figure of Adelheid Voss.

He looked up for a second, seeing three pairs of eyes; some more surprised than others, Judai moving more towards realisation. The gaze of his mother was mad with fear and anger and chaos and panic. Shou swallowed, feeling his heart race in his chest. His own lungs began to scream out from inside.

“I… I’m sorry.”

It was all he had in him, and in that instant, he hated himself. He regretted ever speaking out loud; he regretted ever calling that name, knowing that he may have been wrong from the start. He hated himself for guessing and for saying it, over and over, until the name was stuck firm, inescapable, as if a presence was watching over them all. All stood frozen with fear. The room felt as cold as winter with the chill of the crowd, wide-eyed in horror, alone and together at once, the air thick with apprehension and paranoia.

Eri did not stare at him for long. She turned to her husband, the look of fear swiped and cut from his face by her own look alone. There was a whisper. Hands gestured.

Nodding, the man strode towards her, heaving a little to pick up the elderly woman, still limp in his hold. Eri made a quick ‘shoo’ with one hand and Judai was suddenly free. Wordlessly, gestures told him to back off. His parents made quicker work of propping the unconscious woman up from the floor, and wrapping her arms around their shoulders.

“Stay here,” Eri whispered, turning to Judai, who only nodded and watched as his parents hauled his grandmother, together, towards the door. He knew where it led: up to the living quarters of the house, out of the cafe, and out of sight.

The lone old man left in the room - Judai’s grandfather, Shou knew, balding and glasses-wearing and spotted - followed them up without so much as a sigh. He pressed a palm to the walls as he walked, and it was then that Shou noticed the shake in his hands, and the knock in his knees.

Then, there was stillness and silence.

The dead of the quiet stayed in the room, like a ghost. Without music or voices, the whole room felt empty, as if dead. Shou could not help but feel small and alone. Even with his friend in the room - was he even his friend? He was already fearing the worst. After what he had said, dread was cloaking him like a blanket, choking and winding and creeping deeper into his skin and through to his heart.

The first of the two to speak was Judai. “What the hell was that?”

Shou stood there, eyes still wide, struggling to bring himself to speak without stuttering. “I… I don’t know…”

“You called her Adelheid.”

“I just thought… I don’t know why.”

“Holy shit. You’re _crazy._ ” Judai shook his head, eyes as wide as Shou’s own. His lips parted in confusion, tinted with surprise and stormed through with a kind of fear that Shou had never imagined Judai could show. “I mean… _Adelheid?_ ”

The sound of her name was the toll of a damning bell.

“I don’t know, she looked at me and she said my name. And then, I don’t know, I just blurted it out. I don’t know why she screamed.” Shou tried to speak up. It hurt, from his throat to his lungs, down in his stomach and back to his lungs again. He was a mess, from his head to his toes - a stiff, shaking mess, neither steady nor ready to fall. “I’m sorry, I screwed up.”

“But, I mean…”

“She can’t be Adelheid. She might have misheard or something. She had to have. Or it was someone else.”

There was no other explanation. Everything was a jumble. He had heard Judai mention some other country, apart from America, and that was what had triggered it. The memory was static in his brain, but for certain, it had not been Germany. It had been England.

It had been stupid, calling her out. He could only imagine the dread in the old woman’s mind, recalling terrible memories from the depths of her past. She had to be reliving them now. He was sure. He had done only harm.

_England, that’s right. I screwed up. I screwed up._ He could feel the embarrassment rising like a wave from beneath. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t thinking…”

“Oh man. None of this makes any sense…”

Judai’s tone was half-laugh, half-misery. _I probably upset him too,_ Shou realised. _She is his grandmother. I hurt him, all of them. I thought I had an idea, but I didn’t, and now I’ve messed it all up…_

He wanted to die, there and then.

Judai didn’t see him biting his lip. “I mean, she freaked when I told her your name, and she looked at you kinda weird when she first looked at you. Then she screamed when you called her Adelheid. No way. No way, this is crazy. She isn’t.”

His voice slowed, pauses dragging and slurring. He shook his head as he processed, even as Shou could not make sense of any of it.

“She can’t be. She… can’t actually be…”

“I’m sorry.”

It was an impulse.

Judai refused to listen, his head in a storm of wild vigour. The steps he took towards Shou were fast - or his head had slowed down so much that it seemed impossible to keep track of time.

He did not have time to move, as firm hands grasped at his shoulders. He borderline leapt at the sensation. “Shou, you’re a genius!”

“W-what do you mean?” He could barely speak, throat stiff from shock and shame, but the feeling of Judai’s hold bolted through him, sending sparks through his veins.

“This is amazing!” The look on his friend’s faced morphed into one of astonishment, then a wide smile. “I mean, even if we have no idea what’s going on, she’s got to know _something_ , right?”

“B-but you said, your grandfather…” Shou stuttered, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

Judai’s voice amplified, louder and higher. He was almost shivering, but not with fear - this was excitement, and he could see it, bright in his eyes. How it was possible, Shou could not think fast enough to imagine, but it was insane - crazy, electric - and he could not tell why. Half of him was stone-still, still thinking of the incident with Judai’s grandmother.

The other half was desperate, rushing; wishing Judai would not let go of him. It was pointless, he knew, but his heart would not listen as it ran and ran, unrestrained.

His ears tried to pick up what Judai was shouting. “I was thinking about something else, nothing to do with that! He was in the army, remember? I thought I’d ask him about the war that your grandpa was in, but, like… this is crazy. _This is actually crazy!”_

_“Shush.”_

Judai stopped midway through the gesture, face still at the sight of his mother again. Drawing back, he let go.

Eri leaned back, the wall seeming to be her only support as she let out a sigh. Her hand was on her forehead. “Dear God.”

Shou could think of only apologies, ones he knew would fail as soon as they left his lips. How he would explain what he had done, and what it all meant, he could not begin to comprehend. Never had he considered telling Judai’s mother, of all people, the strange story of his own family, that for so long had been fractured and kicked into the attic, and that had, for those few moments, collided with Judai’s own.

The collision had torn him.

He was struggling to open his mouth, piecing together words when Judai took the lead. “Mom? Shou didn’t mean any harm.”

Eri shook her head. Shou felt his stomach flip, twisting his insides. “…I understand. Or rather, I don’t.”

“He didn’t mean it, I swear.”

“I know.” Her tone was firmer this time, more certain, more of a mother shushing her son than a manager scolding an employee. Judai only let out a slight yelp in response, subtly nodding, before giving in to the same silence.

What he would do next - what he could do next - Shou could not even begin to guess. Squeezing his eyes shut, he prepared himself for the worst.

_Do I stay? Do I go? Do I run and never show my face again? Do I never come back and never see Judai, never again? Do I stop thinking about him, about all that we’ve done? About Miracle Fusion? About the melonpan? About… about the festival?_

His gut squeezed at the very thought of the September festival stall, and how he had doomed it in just a few words. He was a terrible friend, he knew - a terrible person, the worst. He had been selfish and stupid and blurted things out without so much as a thought. It had been only a reflex, and he had listened. It had destroyed not only his friendship, but everything else he held dear.

He had gotten excited too fast. _No,_ he realised.

_Those two won’t be friends…_

Ominous, like circling crows over a corpse, Kagemaru’s words stormed right back. This was it, Shou realised. This was the end, just like the old man had predicted. He had signed his own warrant and brought with it the end, just like he had said behind closed doors. Any moment now - Shou prepared himself - Eri would tell him to scram like a rat, and never to so much as look at Judai ever again.

His hands had started shaking again.

 _Please, let me see him. Let me stay, I beg you._ If there was a God, then Shou prayed that the being would hear him. Eyes shut, he could hear only Judai’s voice, and his laughter, and the warm touch of his hand guiding his, and the smell of warm bread shared between two. He wanted that happiness; forever and always, touching and being, his deep scent and warm eyes.

He would not have it again.

He knew it was over. No words were needed. Slinking out like a mouse, Shou took the first steps to the door.

“Shou. Wait.”

He froze in obedience. The silence persisted. Guilt squeezed his lungs, tight enough for him to wish he would die on the spot with anxiety, the other half of him spitting out painful, terrible words.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I said that. I just… I was so stupid. I’m sorry. Please, tell her I’m sorry…”

Deep down, he prayed the ground would swallow him whole. He could not bear to look up, knowing that what was above and in front was a razor-sharp gaze, but not of his father. He had hurt not only Judai, but his father, and Eri. The shame was too much. No matter how many times he could try and apologise, it would not be enough, so said the pestering voice inside his head. It screamed and shouted, deaf to his fear. His head started to pound, worse than any fever.

He wanted to run. His feet were glued to the ground.

When Eri spoke, what shocked him was its quiet. “My mother wants to speak with you.”

His heart stopped at the thought. Why was she not angry? What was she hiding? Were they going to shame him like this?“Please, tell her I’m sorry…”

“No. She wanted to speak with _you,_ ” Eri stated. Shou looked up, cowering, and saw the shake of her head. She was tired - he could feel it - and most likely a little shocked herself from the incident, but her stance, and her voice, was that of someone bearing pain, and shaking it off. “Take Judai if you want, but this is between you and her.”

“But…”

“I don’t understand it myself. But it’s what she wants.”

For an instant, it was as if her eyes softened with something other than anger or horror. In the blink of an eye, Shou thought he saw love and concern, deep in the eyes of a woman who was as much a business manager as she was a mother and daughter and wife.

He could only hope the sympathy he was hoping for was real.

“Eri-san?” He mumbled, still hiding his shame. He could feel her watching him, whether angry on the inside or not, and he could not escape. “Is… is she angry at me? Should I apologise?”

The answer was obvious. He could not forgive himself for shocking - _no, almost killing her,_ he thought with guilt hovering over his mind. He could recall her petrification, saucer-wide eyes rolling back and her knees giving way as she fell back. Only her daughter and husband had been there, and they had barely been able to stop her hitting the ground and breaking, breaking completely. Thin bones had made her look fragile, like porcelain under the skin.

“If you want to apologise, then do it to her.” Eri’s eyes were still absolute, caring but hard. She was not letting go.

“Are you angry?”

“Not until I find out what happened. Then, I might be, or not. This is for you to discuss with her, not me.”

There was nothing more to it. Shou knew he had made the mistake in overreacting, and Eri was right. The mistake had been his, and so it would be his to correct - alone, if that was what it took. His throat tightened, the old trembling in his hands coming back as he looked back, towards the door that led to the back of the Yuki house. The longer he stared, the deeper the horror inside of him stirred. He knew Eri and her husband had taken Judai’s grandmother there. Her own husband was most likely waiting there with her, eyes set to stare down, heart broken and cold.

It had been his fault; his mistake. It was time for corrections. He took a breath in, and gave a quaint nod. “All right. I’m really sorry. I’ll say sorry to her.”

He did not have the guts to call her Alice; not when the name _Adelheid_ was still fresh on his lips, and not when he had heard the tell-tale scream of secrets coming out into the open like a burst of wild fire.

Judai looked back at his mother, somewhat anxiously. The look on his face was far from the usual, Shou thought. He could not help but worry if he was scared too.

“Can I come?” Judai asked, eyes pleading at Eri. Shou crossed his fingers. He did not want to face his grandmother alone, even if she had asked to. Judai was part of him, and part of the mystery he had encountered. Her scream - her panic, her very identity - had only cemented the bond, down to the core and deep in his blood.

Judai was to Adelheid as Shou was to Satoru. The thought of it, minutes after it had flashed in front of his eyes, had only just come into his head. Only now had it begun to make sense in his mind.

The connection frightened him somewhat with the coincidence. He thought back to his grandfather’s death, and the day of his birth.

_One and the same… just like Alice and Adelheid. One and the same._

“Come with him if you want, but do as she wants you to.” Eri’s voice rocked him out of his state. Shou had forgotten the conversation at hand, and it was only when Eri responded, a little suddenly, that he remembered again. By his side, he saw Judai’s odd look break into a smile. He had the chance now.

He would not let it slip out of reach.

He would make things right again, or as right as possible. The chance of him being forgiven was slim - but if Judai had taught him anything in their months together, both in the kitchen and at the House and digging around in files and folders at home, it was that giving up would not be right.

Shou took a breath in, tasting the air. The pressure of heat and fast panic was still thick in the room. He had to push past it.

“Can I come with you?” Judai turned to him, the question already clear in his eyes before the words left his mouth.

There was only one answer. Their plan had gone to ruin, but the chance was still there. Shou needed support, and Judai was thirsty for answers.

“Yes,” he murmured, still somewhat anxious. He reached out his hand, knowing Judai would not clasp it, not like he wanted, to gesture instead. “We… can go.”

He didn’t wait for Judai to say anything, and his friend said nothing back. It was Judai that took the lead, with Shou knowing he had to follow, and he did so, step by cautious step, past Eri’s part cautious, part dangerous eyes. They were watching him, he knew. He could not escape them, not even as he left the room after Judai, through the door out of the cafe and into the corridor. Even as they clambered up the stairs, both of them too anxious to say a word to each other, he could still feel the burn of her gaze scorching at the back of his neck.

It was not like the looks his father would give him. Eri had been kind to him, and seeing her as she had been, on the edge of fear and trapped in her own anxieties, had left his legs shaking and stiff. He was terrified, heart leaping in his chest and threatening to somersault out. It was a struggle to even keep his walk straight as he followed Judai, footstep by footstep, silence crushing his throat in a choke.

They reached the top of the stairs, and Judai paused at the landing. “Come on,” he whispered, finger hushing his lips. His free hand pointed at a door, just ajar, and Shou swallowed at the mere sight of it. He heard Judai knock, and the faint croak of an old man’s voice. His grandfather, he realised.

“Come in,” the voice grunted.

It was time. He would find out everything or nothing in the space of a handful of heartbeats.

The door was dragged open. The chink of light that cut through the dark of the floor grew wider. Breaths hitched in Shou’s throat at the sight. He could not stay back any more. His conscience would not allow him. He had made his mistake, and it was time for it to be corrected.

He could not let Judai go in first. Eri had been right. This was his time.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he took his steps forward, shy, shuddering fingers prying the door open just a tad wider. The light that streamed into the room, past the lines of the curtains seemed to pry into his irises, as if striking. He had to turn away to just bear it, scared of the eyes that he knew were about to judge him, older and wiser and a thousand times more experienced than him.

His teeth clenched. Bracing himself, he took a breath in and opened his eyes.

There were two people in the room apart from himself, and Judai, as he crept in after him. On the edge of his parents’ bed was the figure of his grandfather, head dipped low and chin in his hands. His head barely moved as Shou turned to face him. His expression was empty.

The body of Judai’s grandmother lay flat on the bed. If not for her breaths, Shou would have rushed over to feel for a pulse - she was still, terribly still, but the heave of her chest was constant, like waves washing over her in a storm. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, and Shou wondered how angry she was at him.

It didn’t surprise him. If not for Judai being in the same room as him, he would have confessed to her that he hated himself.

It hurt to move his mouth at all; the dryness had seeped into his throat and left his lips parched, desperate for water.

There was none, and there would be none. He did not deserve it. 

He bit his lip. The words were there, ready to be said. They were hard, like stones in his throat. Shou felt like choking. The tension was killing him. His hands slid against one another, dampened with sweat, and the sight of Judai’s grandmother, helplessly turning to stare at him, eyes blank and terrible, as if he was a ghost in her vision.

There was little to say, and even the syllables scratched at his insides as he pushed them out of himself. “I’m… really sorry.”

The words were choked out. He did not know if he was saying them right. It hurt to force them out, but keeping them in, too, was painful. He could feel eyes staring, gazes penetrating down into his soul. He wanted to run out. His heart was on the verge of rushing, but his feet were stuck to the ground.

He shuddered as a voice spoke up from the direction of the bed. Looking up, biting his lip, he saw Judai’s grandmother sit up a little. Her hands clung to the sheets, and she leaned back, spine shaking against the headboard. She was not stable either, he knew. He felt sick.

“It’s all right, ” she began to mumble. Her voice came out a quiver, but the words made him take a step back. “You did nothing wrong.”

Shou shook his head in disbelief. “But - but you screamed.”

He could still remember her gasp, and the shout that followed in the aftermath as he said the name - the damnation, he realised. He had sealed it. He had called her Adelheid.

_Was it even her?_ It was still hard to believe. The thought of it made his spin. His stomach churned for a moment, the anxiety bottled up in his chest, down in his arms and legs and toes and fingers, reaching and grabbing him from the inside. It was a fight to keep himself standing.

_What if I said that for no reason? What if it was just a silly prediction, and I was wrong from the start? Even if she did know my family name, and even if she said someone died…_

_It was someone else. It had to be…_

“That was my fault. I don’t know what happened,” she replied, interrupting his thoughts. Her head fell into her hands. “So much. So much I’ve lost. So much I’ve spent these years trying to forget.”

Shou heard faint sounds, somewhat muffled, coming from her. She’s crying, he realised. Not even the feel of her husband’s hand, as he moved closer and came to caress her, not concealing the shaking in his own limbs, could stop her.

Judai did not look back as he closed the gap either. The urge was too much. He took his steps forward and reached out, sitting on the bed by his grandfather’s side. His own hand ran down the old woman’s shoulders, much smoother and younger than that of the man by his side, but the touches he gave, too, were heavy with care. The tears began to flow past her fingers and palms, until there were drops on her lap. Shou could feel his instincts screaming at him from inside, telling him to come closer and hold her.

_No,_ he thought, stepping back. _I don’t know her. I don’t know anything, not even her name._ His head thought of calling her Alice, but his heart was still screaming Adelheid.

Judai leaned in a little closer. His hand drew comforting circles on his grandmother’s shoulders, as his voice grew softer - softer in a way that Shou had not expected, and had not heard before, not until now. “Grandma? You’re saying that you’re…”

The interruption was sudden, even through the mess of her sobbing. “Y-yes. It’s true. I wasn’t who I was from the beginning. _Alice Smith_ was my lie.”

It took Judai aback. His eyes widened, and his hand withdrew, just for a moment. “Grandpa?”

The old man shook his head. Raising his gaze, the solemn look behind the frames of his glasses was as clear as it was deep.

“I’m sorry. She isn’t lying. _She is who she is.”_

His voice was hoarse, not only with age but with fatigue; most had not come from the plane journey, Shou realised. He was tired - and it had only grown worse since he had set foot inside Judai’s house, since he had called out his wife and turned her into what she was now as she wept on the bed.

_What have I done?_ Shou still couldn’t shake off the feeling of terror. Even if he knew now that he had been right, what had it done for him? What was the difference?

What had been the point in him crying out? What had it come to?

_Nothing,_ he realised _. Only sadness._

“But - but why? Why? You told us you came from England.” Judai’s lip wobbled, trying to stand strong against disbelief. Shou could hear the shaking infect his voice as it seeped from his lips, just as broken and weary as the rest of the others around him.

His grandmother - Adelheid, this time it was certain - shook her head. The tears were still falling. “No. I… I lied. All this time. I’m sorry.”

“Grandma…”

She reached out a hand, wet with tears, to gesture to him to step back. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you all had to f-find out…”

Judai did as she implied, scooting back. His grandfather gave a quaint nod, turning to his grandson and then standing up. He gave a heavy sigh as he did.

His gaze turned to Shou. He was not angry, not like he had expected - but he was tired, and sad, and if Shou was brave enough to use the word for someone in that state, he was broken. He could see the ache in his eyes as he pulled away from his wife, his own chest heaving with emotion and longing, and the dull ache of knowing he had kept the same secret from his entire family for decades.

“No. It’s all my fault.” Shou took a step back. He tried to fight back, knowing what had broken his friend and his grandparents. “I’m sorry about this. I should get out - “

He didn’t say any more, the feeling of having to run having grown far too much. It was straining, tugging away at his chest and his heartstrings. He had to leave, and before he could stop and say anything else, his feet were already urging him onwards, closer to the door, hand on the chilling cool of the handle -

“Shou, wait! Don’t go, it wasn’t you!“

Judai yelled out, hand outreached for someone he could not get to.

It was then that Shou froze, with his hand on the door still, as he heard the sound of sobbing ring out through the room. Slowly, he turned.

The elderly woman - Alice, or Adelheid, or Judai’s grandmother, he did not know what to call her any more - was still. Her face had dipped low. Her hands were wet, weak against the tears that were welling up and falling down, out of control. Her voice broke in between sobs as she tried to get some clear words out.

It took a few seconds for Shou to realise what she was saying.

“No. He’s right. P-please. Stay. Please stay with me…”

Her sobs echoed through her room, and for those moments, Shou swore he could feel the walls of the room trembling with her emotions. Tears streaked down her face, and she rushed to cover them up with her hands, old and worn, and familiar with so many sensations that Shou could barely imagine at once.

He wanted to reach for her, and comfort her, even if he barely knew the woman, because there was that something at the base of his heart, and it was tugging him towards her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, and that he would listen. He would be ready to listen, no matter what horrors or glories she wanted to talk about, because he had finally reacher her - he had found her, he had found Adelheid, and he had hurt her, terribly so.

He wanted to know, and he needed to do what she asked him.

“Please stay,” she pleaded, once more. “I… I think it’s time I told someone the truth.”

The silence was still. Shou swallowed, struggling to keep himself stable. He still wanted to run, and at the same time, he wanted to be there for Adelheid - not for her story, he realised, but just to keep her warmer and calmer.

She reminded him of the House elders, and he could not leave them behind. He had warmed to the people of the House of Flowers, and listened to their stories. Kagemaru’s tale had been only one of many. Adelheid’s was another, and if she wanted to speak, then he was bound to listen. There was not much he could to to comfort her, not in the state she was in, and it hurt him to think of what he had done. If listening to her could begin to make up for the suffering he had caused, then he would do it. He would do that, and a thousand more things.

Running away was not an option. Staying and listening was the only thing he knew to be right.

“Shall I leave you to it?” Her husband asked her. Gently, seeking both love and and answer, he patted her shoulder.

“…Yes, please,” she murmured, still shaking.

There was only one more small grunt from the elder man’s throat as he stood up, back somewhat painful as he placed a hand onto his spine. He did not meet either of the two boys’ stares as he shuffled out of the room, door creaking shut as he left. The footsteps echoed away through the silence. The only sound that shook up the air as he went on, down and down, was the slowing of Adelheid’s sobs.

Her cries were becoming softer, moment by moment. Judai had leaned back in to her, his hand at her shoulder again. He whispered something quickly to her in English, some word or phrase that Shou did not hear clearly, but it was met with her gesturing what seemed like a _no._

When she finally looked up, her face coming unstuck from her hands, Shou saw the red in her eyes, and only then did he look at her clearly. The veins had turned her sclera to cracked plates, fragile as the porcelain of the shaky bones in her hands. Crow’s feet marked the corners of her eyes. Her hair, thinning but soft-looking still, and white as the first winter snow, stuck to her scalp, dampened with sweat and stress. Her cheeks were marked scarlet with tear-tracks.

This was her, Shou realised, looking closer and unable to take his eyes off of the woman. This was her; Adelheid Voss, the girl whose name had played hide-and-seek with him across pages and photographs.

The girl from nowhere was somewhere. That somewhere was in front of him, and the time had come for the answers.

Judai was the first to speak up, voice still lowered with worry. His hands did not leave his grandmother’s shoulder. “What happened?”

She let out a sigh, heavy with memory and low with pain. “I remember. I remember it still. If only I didn’t remember, then…” She shook her head, as if trying to force something back. “No. I still remember. I still remember.”

“Hm?” Shou wanted to say something more than a grunt, but his lips were still. His jaw refused to move.

Adelheid shuffled around on the bed for a moment, before she patted down a place on the edge of the bed, close to Judai. It took a few seconds for Shou to realise she was looking at him, and that her hand would only move when he took his place there, right where she wanted.

The guilt was there still, overpowering like a feeling of sickness, but he had no choice. Wordlessly, he sat where she was silently telling him to sit. Her hand moved away, and Judai looked back at him, eyes bright with hope.

This was the beginning. Both leaned in, just a little, listening closer.

Adelheid sighed again, before continuing on. “I was born in Germany, and my mother brought me to Japan when I was a baby. England was nothing to me.”

Glancing at Judai, Shou saw the twitch in his eye at the words. His lips were frozen, partly open and partly closed, neither here nor there, neither fully accepting nor denying the truth that his grandmother had kept for so many years from most of her family.

She did not stop. “My father had set up his business here. We came here, and I learned German and Japanese, and the language of our religion. I came to school here. I had friends here. I had my _everything_ here.”

“You knew my grandfather,” Shou exclaimed, eyes suddenly widened. “Satoru.”

“Satoru?” The name was not strange to her tongue, he could feel. Her eyes bore all the longing of decades and thousands of miles. He could see the sorrow within as her hands squeezed the sheets, tentatively at first then a little more desperately. The corners of Adelheid’s eyes concealed brand new tears. ”Yes. Yes, I loved him. _So much.”_

“What about Amamiya Tarou?”

“I loved him, too.”

Judai interrupted, eyebrow raised. “Hold on, didn’t you want to marry one of them?”

Shou gave a small nod in Judai’s direction, recalling what Kagemaru had said. He had heard the old man say it too; that there had been plans for her to marry Amamiya, and that his grandfather had stayed with them all the same.

_Was that it?_

Was that the strength of the love of friends, and what Kagemaru had meant by history repeating itself? Adelheid had lost her friends, and the same thing was on the verge of happening between him and Judai, even if Shou longed for him to be more than a friend…

_Was that really it?_

He didn’t quite understand the strange look in her eyes, and how it seemed to scream more as she looked at him, pleading like a kicked dog, wanting him to understand something that wasn’t coming together, not quite.

“Yes,” Adelheid sobbed, softly enough for the word to slip past barely-listening ears. “I loved them, and both of them, with all of my heart. I could only have married one of them, and… I didn’t want to hurt Satoru. I knew he could never love me the way I loved him.”

Her eyes hid small secrets; ones that Shou’s mind could not stitch together, not at first. When it finally clicked, the shock resonated, just for a second.

“I don’t know if I understood it back then, or if any one of us did. But I loved both of them,” she continued, weeping into the whispers.

Judai leaned in, eyes wide with concern. “Grandma…”

“I thought they were both gone.”

“Because of the war?”

“Yes. I heard about what was happening, and it was too much. I went with my parents when the war ended in Europe. I spent two years in England. That’s all. I went with them, because it was better. I didn’t want to see Yanaka again, not after everything. It wasn’t my home, not any more. Not when I’d lost everyone that I loved.”

Judai froze. His hand, still on his grandmother’s shoulder, turned to stone for a second as he stood still in thought. He looked away, and Shou took the initiative, in those few seconds of silence, to take the lead. His question seemed foolish, but it was all he wanted to know.

“What happened then?“

Adelheid shook her head, clearly distraught. Shou felt his heart twinge, knowing it was probably hurting her to remember. Through the clear pain, the old woman continued to speak, even as her shoulders began to quiver again with the return of her tears.

“It still wasn’t enough. We had no money left in Japan, and our business shut down, and we hadn’t had a thing left in Germany since I was a child. That was why we went. We took what we had to England, but… I couldn’t bear it. I needed to be alone. To be somewhere I could forget, without anybody that knew me, or who I was. England wasn’t enough. That was all that I had of that place. I was there for two years, and then I left. I got on a ship, and left it all for New York.”

She looked up, eyes glittering with bright saltwater; and just for an instant, the vision was bright in the gap between her lips, in the clumps of her eyelashes and the red dusting her cheeks. It was the vision she had dreamed of, so many years ago, and Shou could only guess what it all meant. The sight of foreign shores - countless roads whose names she could or couldn’t read, armies of foreigners’ eyes, shoes whose owners she did not know; voices and voices and voices unknown…

He could only imagine it, and even then, it was nothing more in his mind than a vague dream.

Judai, too, had stopped to think, taking it all in and letting the knowledge settle inside. “Where you met Grandpa, right?” He asked, hesitating. 

“…Yes.” Her face grew a little brighter, but she shied away still. “But that was not for a while. I’d already forced myself to forget when I met him. I told him the whole story when the time came, but… maybe it was meant to be.” She stared off to one side, perhaps a little embarrassed. 

Shou realised it, then and only then, that he was looking at the eyes of a believer in destiny.

“He came from Japan. I saw him and started talking to him, in a language I swore I’d never use again.”

“So Grandpa knew all along?”

“He knew. But I didn’t want it brought up. It hurt to lie, but he went with my lies. He paid for my documents to be changed, long before we were married. I got rid of everything. I lost my name, my past… even _my faith_. And I tried to forget. I tried to never go back to thinking about Tokyo. But… I decided to come here. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I… I didn’t think anybody like _you_ could have existed.”

Adelheid’s eyes turned back to Shou, wet and weary. He did not expect it, and almost jumped in surprise. Her hand reached for his, and gently swept over and touched.

Her fingers were damp with sadness.

“Why?”

“Because you’re the proof that Marufuji Satoru didn’t die in that war.”

In that instant, she seemed to glow. Her hand brushed against his, ever so gently, as if he was still nothing more a phantom. “You’re the proof that I might have been wrong all this time. I tried to forget, but all of it was worth nothing. I could never really forget. I could never forget my childhood here, by these streets.”

Even as it became clearer and clearer, it was still too much to digest. She collapsed back on the bed. “No. I tried to forget, but I could never do that. I could never forget the boys that I loved…”

“Grandma?”

“They’re all gone now. They’re both gone, aren’t they? Everything I knew is gone, _isn’t it?”_

“No. They aren’t.”

Shou was not able to stop himself saying it. It came out too fast to control. It was more than his head or his lungs this time, but all of him, all that he knew in his heart, telling him that what she believed was a lie. It was all that he knew, and she had her limits, he knew. She did not know. He could not let her believe her own lie; the thing that hurt her so much, assuming that what she had thought of was true, and it was what she had been believing for years.

He had been in Yanaka for longer, for all of the past seventeen years. He knew more than she did.

“The war,” she insisted.

Her hands were back on the bed again, Shou’s hands suddenly left colder in a shock. She stared up. If it was a fight against reality, then it was a losing one. She was remembering again, and the pain was clear now, impossible to ever hide.

“No. I know. Kagemaru-san’s still alive. You know him? He’s still here. And so is your old house.”

He heard her gasp and almost leap up. Her lips froze with disbelief at the sound of the name. “My… house?”

“Yes. The old house. It’s still here. It’s a seniors’ home now, but it’s still here. And they named it after you. _Blumenhaus._ ” He wasn’t sure what he was saying until the words spilled from his mouth. Even as he became aware of it, there was no use stopping. He knew all of it, from what Kagemaru had said, and from the gaps he had tried to fill in.”You know what that means, right?”

“I… I know. I remember…” Adelheid gasped. “I haven’t spoken it for a long time. That place. That place. My house. Is that its name now?”

“Yes. That’s what its name is. But we all just call it the House of Flowers. They planted all of the flowers for you.”

She shook her head again. The disbelief had half-seized her, half rocked her, to the point where she couldn’t keep still. Her chest thrummed with the rush of it; most likely too much to bear for a woman white-haired and worn down with age.

“I can’t believe it. The house. My old house… and I remember. I remember him. That _old man…_ I remember him. I remember that place…”

“You want to go see it?” Judai leaned in.

Her eyes met his with a spark. “I have to. I have to see it again.”

“I guess I’ll tell Mom and Dad about it. They’ll show you the place. And if they don’t know where it is… Shou and I can show you. Right?”

Judai turned back, the look of hope clear on his face. “Yes. We’ll show you,” Shou agreed.

There was a pause as Adelheid sat up again.

"I... I just never expected it. To come back here, to this place. So many things. So many. My old house. Your family,” she exclaimed, half deep in thought, recalling everything as she turned back to Shou. “The shop. _Amaruya._ ”

He let out a small gasp. He had not expected her to remember its name, not after even its sign had been a different one in the days of the old photographs he had seen. It was a foreign name to her tongue, lost and pushed aside after decades of venturing from country to country - and yet, she had not forgotten it, no matter how much she had tried.

Adelheid had come home.

“I remember it,” she continued. “I remember it having this smell. You have something like it. You’re definitely Satoru’s grandson. You’ve got that something about you. Not quite your hair or your eyes, but it’s… _something._ Maybe that’s it. The smell of you, the smell…”

The thought that he really did smell strange, as the old woman was claiming, made Shou want to hide. He had nowhere to go. It embarrassed him as much as it made him laugh on the inside, thinking back to the days before Judai and how much he had probably reeked of every single mixture of Amaruya’s teas put together, when he had not had a reason to leave.

Had it weakened now, or was it drowned out by Judai’s strong coffee, or the scent of sugary cake? 

“Wait,” he called. “I… I have something I remembered.”

“What is it?” Adelheid looked intrigued.

“Did you and my grandfather ever… bake?”

“Not really,” she denied with a sigh. One finger rested on her chin, thinking back through less harsh memories; Shou hoped they were not of her loss, or the war. “My mother taught me to cook, for my future husband, she’d say it was for. Funny that she was the one who started the joke about me having two husbands at once… but no, I never did. My mother did make wonderful cakes.”

“Did she make bread at all?” Judai chimed in suddenly, having picked up the lead. In the corner of his eye, Shou glimpsed a fast wink.

“Sometimes. Just something nice to have with your grandfather’s tea. Nothing out of the ordinary, and she never passed on her recipes. Only to the housemaid, and I doubt she’s alive now.”

“Do you… remember any of them?” Shou picked up.

“Not really. I haven’t baked in a while. Why?”

“It’s kind of complicated,” he admitted with a faint blush. “Kind of…” He trailed off for a moment, glancing back at Judai for approval. Judai only nodded at him to continue.

He picked it back up, a little more confidently this time. It sounded strange, even now, but after the shock of all that had happened that day, it was nothing. Nothing could ever compare to the rush of what he had seen and hear and all that had finally come together into a patchwork that was as strange as it all made perfect sense.

Things were coming together, Shou hoped.

All would be well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot to update this on time. Blame that thing called Other Fandom Hell. That aside: this is the final Act of the story, and we'll be starting to seam up loose ends... maybe
> 
> Just for reference: I changed my name on tumblr, so if you want to talk it's now seruspica.tumblr.com <3
> 
> And... comments are 100% loved here so leave one, y'know


	20. Ch. 18

_** chapter eighteen. ** _

In the year since he had started delivering teas to the House, Shou had only visited it on a handful of Sundays. Weekdays had been constantly taken up by work, and by the time it was over, it was far too late to go out and visit the elders, if he was not already on the verge of falling asleep.He had been bringing over remnants of bread on some Sunday evenings, but those had not counted. Sunday afternoon visits were rare.

Sundays were quieter days, but those had been reserved for school work and the occasional trip out to Ueno or a train to some other part of Tokyo, and he had never asked about Sundays. Some part of him had been a little scared to. He was not sure how many relatives came to visit on Sundays.

Seeing the young with the old on occasional Satudays made his heart flutter. There was something about the way the old women smiled, gap-toothed and wrinkled, and yet rejuvenated at the sight of a daughter or a son, or even a grandchild sometimes. A few hours would keep their spirits lifted for days, Mizuchi had said to him once. _Even having you around pleases them. Your brother kept to himself. But you do more than that, and they love you._

He wasn’t quite sure if he believed her. His brother had been a little distant, but Shou knew he was far from perfect himself. No matter how many eyes twinkled at the sight of him, he had struggled to believe it sometimes. For years, his father had called him nothing but ordinary, if not inadequate. Sometimes, there was more scorn than anything else, and that had continued for years, no matter how hard he tried.

_But, of course. Come tomorrow,_ Mizuchi had said, over the phone in the aftermath of that most turbulent Saturday. _Of course you can come and see them again. And of course, bring Fujimoto-san…_

He had thought she would object, or tell him he could not come until the following Saturday, with the festival was on the horizon.

Luck was on his side, and Judai’s. He could only hope it would be the same for his grandmother.

On Sunday morning, almost at midday, he slipped out of the house without seeing his father, and, with the old photographs and his grandfather’s diary in his bag, made his way towards the familiar temple. It was still one of a countless many, but meeting with Judai, time and again, had made it all clear. The same place, each time.

It was a little strange, he thought as he walked, that he was off to the House without a box of tea in his hands. It was a Sunday. Everything about it seemed odd, somewhat different. He walked lighter and faster, and his feet did not feel so heavy. The night before had been peaceful. The paths towards the temple did not seem so long. Even the streets were quieter this time, most of the locals staying indoors and most of Yanaka’s shops a few roads away shut for the day. Tourist season was not yet over, but Sundays were quiet. 

There was something warming about that serenity.

He did not have to wait long. There were only a few minutes before he saw Judai and his grandmother’s figures, coming closer as they made their way down to the temple. Shou could see the old woman’s head turning, side to side, taking in the images all around her, of the trees and the walls and the roofing of the temple, shying away behind slowly-yellowing leaves. A long time ago, it had been her neighbourhood too, he reminded himself. How much of it had changed, he was not sure exactly.

“Hey! Shou!”

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Judai calling, smiling and waving. Turning towards him, Shou began to walk back towards him, closing the gap.

“Morning,” he replied. Knowing he had to be more polite this time, he turned to the elderly woman by Judai’s side. “And… good morning to you, too. I hope you’re all right - I mean, I hope things got better in the evening.”

It made him cringe as the words slipped out. He couldn’t think of what else to say, or how best to describe it. Asking her how she had slept sounded too personal. Jumping straight in and asking how much Yanaka had changed was too brash, too forward. Not yet, he reminded himself. He had to keep calm, even if it was hard to do so.His own feelings - excitement, worry, the lingering tension and fear from the previous day - swarmed him like bees.

Judai’s grandmother gave a calm smile. “Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’m all right.”

“That’s good. I mean, thank you for coming - “

Shou stopped, realising he did not have a definite name for the old woman. He could not decide if it felt stranger to call Judai’s grandmother Adelheid, or to call Adelheid by the name she had taken. Alice Fujimoto was what it was, somewhat false, somewhat odd on his tongue, even if it was the name on every document that she owned, and she had been solely Grandma Alice to Judai for all of his now-eighteen years.

He had only met her the previous day. Either Alice or Adelheid, he thought, it had no right to matter to him. He was almost a stranger. Whichever she wanted was the name he would call her. 

“Wait. I… I’m sorry,” he tried to speak out, piecing words together, somewhat hesitant. He did not want to offend her. “Fujimoto-san?”

“Hm?” She tilted her head, leaning in somewhat.

Shou swallowed. “What should I call you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m sorry I called you by that name yesterday. I never asked, but… what name is better for you? Fujimoto-san, or - “

“I don’t mind.” She didn’t seem angry, or dismissive, as if to swat a fly out of her sight. It was calmer than Shou had anticipated, but it still wasn’t the answer he needed to know.

“Call me Adelheid if you like. It’s been a long time.”

“Does it feel… _weird_ if I call you that?”

“A little,” she said. “I’ve been Alice so long. Maybe I’ve forgotten what Adelheid meant. I know it’s strange, but she feels like a different person almost. Like she was the girl I forgot, or I tried to forget. Like I was already Alice before I took that name. Like I stopped being Adelheid the day I left Yanaka, or the day I was told that _they_ were probably dead.”

Her eyes glazed over for a moment, as if she was about to cry. Shou’s chest clenched. He didn’t want to upset her, but he had done it again, he realised. 

“I don’t know. It’s been a long time. It’s as if I left her behind, and she’s been calling for me all this time. My past. Who I was. Who I loved. Who I could never forget. All of my memories. That tea shop. School. My parents. _My boys…”_

“Grandma?” Judai exclaimed. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m fine,” she sniffed, one hand dabbing around her eyes and smearing small tears. “It’s just been a long time. And so many people have gone…” 

Her voice trailed off, swept away by the wind of early September and hushed by the sounds of rustling leaves.

“Grandma?”

“It’s all right. It’s just been a long time. Such a long time…”

“Do you still want to go see the house? If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“No. It’s been so long now. I think I have to,” she said, half sighing and half insisting, taking the first step forward while Judai’s feet still both rested firm on the ground. “At least, let me see it. Just once, and then I’ll be able to rest.”

“…Rest?” Judai gasped. “Grandma, you don’t - “

“No, no. Not yet,” she denied. “Not for a while. But it feels right. I know I’ve got to go back there.”

There was a strange kind of resolve in her eyes, mingled with pain as much as determination, warped and marbled with age. Shou could see the ache from within her in her expression, in the marks of each wrinkle. Her fingers were shaky, and he could see that she was close to tears again. He did not want her to cry. Barely so, he could see Judai’s hand reaching for her back, pulling the woman into a sort of embrace.

“I’ve got to go back,” she said, voice breaking a little. “Please, just take me there.”

Judai turned. “You want to show the way, then?”

Shou obliged, and took the lead. He did not stray far ahead, thinking of the elderly woman taking slower paces than he and Judai were used to. He stopped and waited a little for them to catch up, but did not go much further on by himself. He did not feel the need to - the slower pace was refreshing, and the lack of a box in his hands gave him some relief, as he pointed out the rooftops of temples and hidden passageways between the buildings they passed.

The trees around them would soon be turning yellow and red. It was already starting. There was a soft rustle on the ground as they walked, though they seldom looked down. Around them was so much to show and so much to point out, far too much them to all go into in detail in just the one day that they had.

Sometimes, Adelheid would look down as she walked, one hand dabbing away at the corners of her eyes. The streets had changed, but not much; not like the rest of Tokyo had, like Shou had seen in the photographs. He could only imagine how she was seeing Yanaka, through a gaze weathered with time and experience, and what kinds of wonders lurked in her memory.

She looked as happy as she was broken.

“I just… still can’t believe it,” she murmured, looking down to the ground. Her hair was not long enough to hide the pain in her features. “I never thought that… of all the places, my family would resettle here. I never thought I’d be back on these streets again. I never thought I’d be asking about what I left behind. About them…”

She turned to Shou, the whites of her eyes a few shades redder than he wished they were.

“Do you know if they were buried somewhere?”

The question took him aback. Slowly, it came to him, the realisation that he did not know. He had been living for years with the knowledge that his grandfather was dead. His father had insisted on it, and he had only doubted it for a few days of his life, before he and Judai had tracked down his death certificate. He was dead, for certain - but for all of his years alive, Shou had never heard a word about his grandfather’s grave. His life had ended with a heart attack, before Shou was born, so his father had told him. Half of it was a lie, and the other half a little misleading - but never had there been any word of a grave.

It was even more awkward, realising that his grandfather was possibly at rest in the cemetery he had walked through so many times, drowned in a sea of names he did not recognise.

“I… I’m sorry. I don’t,” he confessed, his embarrassment searing. “My dad never told me. He never even talked about my grandfather. I didn’t know about him or Tarou-san until a few months ago, and that was after we found some old things. I don’t know what happened to them.”

He hoped Adelheid would not be hurt even more at the sound of it. He probably sounded disrespectful, or careless, he thought. _I should have tried to find out more. I should have insisted, or asked earlier, but it scared me - it still does. It still does…_

Judai continued where he had left off, filling in the gap of the silence. “It’s not his fault, seriously! His family’s kept him in the dark this whole time. They didn’t tell him anything, and we only found out by accident. When we found the old photographs, and the diary.”

“Photographs?”

He turned to Shou, giving his shoulder a gentle shake. “Did you bring them?”

“I did,” Shou nodded. He reached down into his bag, hand brushing against the wallet he had been keeping them in since receiving them from Mizuchi. “I’ll show them later. When we get to the House.”

It would be a little awkward, he decided, to just take them out and try to look into them while on the go. They would come to the House in a short while, and then they would take them out. He could only hope it would not bring out any more bad memories, for either Adelheid or Kagemaru, or anyone else in the House. As much as he longed for the truth, so much of him did not want to see any more pain on either of the elders’ faces.

They went on, but there was little silence. Between the faint chirping of birds, unfazed by the coming of autumn, Judai called out Shou’s name, and he turned around.

“Shou. I just thought of something.”

“Yes?”

Judai cleared his throat, turning towards him. Shou couldn’t tell if he wanted his grandmother to hear them or not - his voice was a little too loud, but the way he leaned in made him think it was some kind of secret at first. “What Grandma said. About… about where your grandfather, and Amamiya Tarou are buried. What are the chances of them having graves in Yanaka?”

Shou paused to think, but didn’t stop walking. It wasn’t something he had thought about much. When Adelheid had quizzed him on it, only moments before, it was almost a completely new thought. 

Yanaka’s graveyard was huge. He had walked through it so many times, seeing mourners and runners, dog-walkers and men and women with incense and flowers. The cats would wander through the place, too, without a care, sunning themselves by the gravestones. It was such a part of the neighbourhood that he sometimes forgot that it could be a resting place for the dead - and perhaps his own kin, he realised.

_Why have I not looked there before?_

His father had not mentioned any family graves, but the graveyard had always been there.

“They might be here. I don’t know,” he confessed. “It’s the closest one, and… it makes sense for them both to be there, but…”

He could not quite shake off the doubts clouding his thoughts. What would my father think if I asked him? He wouldn’t tell me - far from it, the last thing he would ever do would be to talk about something like that…

“What’s up?”

Shou swallowed. “My dad never talked about it. The grave, I mean. I don’t even know if there is one. I don’t know what he did to my grandfather’s ashes.”

There was another small pause. Judai’s gaze drifted up to the sky for a minute.

“…But hey, listen. I mean, if we got this melonpan recipe worked out over summer… do you think we could find those graves, too?”

It was possible. Still, the cemetery was large. Even Judai had to know, Shou thought, even if he had only been in Yanaka for a few months.

_It takes up so much space. I don’t know if we can. How much time would we need to spend looking for just a pair of graves that might not even be there?_

The thought of death - and searching thought thousands of graves, looking for what could be nothing - made his head spin.

“I mean, I know it’s a pretty big cemetery, but if we spend a few Sundays there, we might be able to find them,” Judai finished. There was clear uncertainty in the way he had said it, but some kind of confidence too, and some kind of hope. “And if they’re not there, then we find them elsewhere.”

Looking through all of the graveyards in Tokyo would take an impossible amount of time - one Shou was sure he would not have.

“What if there aren’t any graves? None at all?”

“Hey, think about it. Maybe _I_ can get away with saying that, but how long have you been here? Your family, I mean?”

Shou thought about it. He was right. How long his family had been in Yanaka, he was not sure, but it was far longer than Judai’s few months. If anything, Amaruya had a history - and Kagemaru had said something about the shop and its two families going back.

“Kagemaru-san said a long time. And the tea shop’s been here… well, _a long time_. I’m not sure how long exactly.”

“Then we’ll find some other people. Maybe there are family graves. Even that’s pretty interesting,” Judai insisted. “All this stuff that’s gone on. I mean, if we find those graves, wouldn’t that be some kind of closure? You know, put the dead to rest and all that?”

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” Adelheid added, so suddenly it made Shou’s heart race for an instant. He had forgotten that she could hear everything, but it did not embarrass him, knowing that she had been listening.

“Grandma?” Judai turned around. Where Shou had ridden out most of the surprise, he was still somewhat shocked. Shou couldn’t help but feel his heart twinge at the sight.

Adelheid let out a sigh. One hand dabbed at a watery eye. “I think they would be happy if you two found them and paid them a visit. Even if I can’t see them myself, I think they would be glad to have been remembered.”

_Remembered,_ Shou thought. _That’s right. My father tried to push it aside. I don’t know if he expected my grandfather’s memory to die with him. He never told me or Ryou much about him. He hid the diary, and there’s near nothing of his left in the house._

Even Amaruya’s past had been swept under the rug - but so much of it, so much, had escaped. Shou knew he could not let it be hidden again. Finding the graves would be hard work, and that was clear from the size of the graveyard they would have to search, and the possibility of having to search any others. It would not be easy. It would take time, but the secret had already come out. It was too late to bury it again. 

It would not stay buried - not for much longer, he decided. Once he took over the shop, he would be free to do as he pleased.

Things would change, and for the better this time.

The walk to the House felt shorter with the wind in his hair and those thoughts in his head. Judai, too, and his grandmother, voices caught up in conversation as he walked onwards, thinking in silence, kept him rooted down in reality. 

The building itself was no different than usual, nestled amongst red leaves rather than the greens and pastels of spring that he had first brought Judai to see months ago. The colours of fire carpeted the ground. The old man that would come to sweep them away was not out.

Rarely had Shou ever seen him on Sundays.

They stopped by the gates, and he turned around, watching Adelheid’s face.

Her hands were still up by her eyes, rubbing away what had to be tears. Her mouth was just agape. The look on her was of awe and amazement, lip quivering in an attempt to stay calm. Judai stood by her side, giving her something to lean on if his grandmother needed it, but she did not totter. She stood, surprisingly calm, with her eyes full of wonder as she drank in the sight.

“Yes. I remember it. It’s not like what it was, but… this really is it. I remember it,” she said, voice drifting along with the breeze. “I remember this place. My home.”

She looked around, glancing from side to side. Shou could hear her gasp softly. In her throat was the familiar feeling of wanting to cry.

“I don’t remember _that part_ being there,” she said, pointing at the side wing of the House. “They must have added it. And oh, look. Flowers, so many…”

The flower beds were far from their spring beauty. Most of the flowers were long since out of bloom, but others had sprung up in their midst. There were still pansies and violets, and the green lawn was still speckled with little white daisies. The cherry blossoms were gone. Yellow leaves had taken their place, but they were not ugly - only another colour, Shou thought. The House of Flowers was still bright, even with the changing of seasons.

”They’re beautiful. I remember, I wanted flowers back then. I wanted to plant them, to have the whole lawn covered in them, but my parents wouldn’t allow it. Keep to the flowerbeds, they kept saying to me… Oh, it’s all coming back,” Adelheid kept on gasping and staring in awe.

“They’re for you,” Shou said.

“Me?”

“I… I heard. My grandfather and Amamiya-san planted them. They were for you. For your grave.”

“Oh.”

“They thought you were gone.”

Adelheid’s eyes gleamed in the sun. It was hard to imagine what lay in her memories, and Shou could only imagine half of what she was thinking.

“I was gone. So were they. So were they…”

She trailed off. Judai stayed by her side as Shou went up to the intercom and called over Mizuchi. He had told her they would be coming, but he had not told her the time. It took a couple of seconds for her to let them in through the gates, but she told them to wait - she would come to the front, and at least say hello to the visitor she had yet to meet, but had been expecting.

Excitement buzzed in the air. The three of them came to the front door, and waited. Shou could only hope there would be no drama, and no more terrible memories. He turned around to face Adelheid and Judai again, and was startled somewhat by the sound of the sound of the door opening when it did, the House’s administrator coming out to welcome all of them in.

“Mizuchi-san…” Shou called out first, trying to laugh off how he had jumped in surprise.

“Good morning. It’s good to see you. Shou, Judai…” Mizuchi turned to face both of them, nodding to acknowledge their presence. “Oh, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. Saiou Mizuchi, admin,” she said, facing Adelheid, giving a gentle, half-formal bow.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” the old woman said, gently smiling. Her eyes were still wandering from place to place, taking in the sights and scents of the flowers. “I see you’ve taken good care of this place.”

Mizuchi raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“It’s a long story,” Shou added.

Adelheid nodded. “It’s a long and wild one all right. But I guess I’ve just… come home to visit.”

They didn’t spend long by the front of the House. Mizuchi took the lead and guided them in, and told them to keep hold of their shoes. It had always seemed a little odd, Shou thought, as Judai and Adelheid began to explain the events of the past day, how the House had not been quite built with the taking-off of shoes in mind. He had found it strange, how Mizuchi had told him to keep his shoes with him so he could put them on again to go into the garden.

But this wasn’t a Japanese house to begin with, he realised. It was Adelheid’s family’s house, and they brought their own thing into this place, a little like Judai and his parents had. What had happened decades ago was not quite the same as the events of that spring, and yet, something was similar.

_Was that history repeating itself? Strangers in Yanaka?_

_Still,_ he thought. _Did Kagemaru know that Judai was related to Adelheid?_

He would ask him this time.

Four people walking down one narrow corridor meant that one had to follow the other. Still, even with Adelheid looking around, they reached the back end of the House in little time, so they stayed there a while, next to the doors in the garden. Adelheid continued telling her story, and Mizuchi continued to listen, eyes widened and hands by her lips in surprise.

“Oh, gosh… I can’t believe it. You lived here, all this time ago?” Mizuchi exclaimed.

Adelheid gave a nod. Her eyes swept around, corner to corner, taking in a sight that was as familiar as it was strange after sixty years of absence. “My father had this place built from the ground up. That’s why it is like it is, so odd out here in Yanaka. He thought he would bring the things he loved to Japan with him, so he brought me and my mother, and had the house built as such.”

_That’s why,_ Shou realised. _That’s why this place is so strange in Yanaka. Why it didn’t quite fit in, all this time…_

Mizuchi shook her head, still somewhat taken aback. “I just… I didn’t know. Shou here got us all thinking about it, but… I never realised. I never knew you were…”

The silence that lingered at the end of her words was a confused one. She couldn’t get out the right words, and it was Adelheid that completed her thoughts. _“Still alive?_ I’m alive indeed, last of my family. And you can keep this house, if you’re wondering. I’m not here to take it away from you. No, you see… I’m just here for a visit.”

There was a small smile on her lips, one that was weary with age but alive with spirit.

“Mizuchi-san?” Shou turned back to Mizuchi, looking up as he always did.

“Yes?”

“Is Kagemaru-san out there?”

“He should be,” she replied, beginning to calm.

“Can you get him? We’ll all come out to the garden.”

Mizuchi nodded, already taking steps towards the door. “All right. I’ll call over Tome-san."

Shou could feel his heart leap with excitement. So much was coming together. He could not fight the sudden excitement or the worry, either of the two feelings tugging at his chest as he looked back at Judai, eyes bright with excitement, and back at Adelheid, whose hands shook as they clenched, hopeful but anxious.

He let Judai take the lead this time, and watched him guide his grandmother out of the corridor, towards the wide room that let to the garden, while he ran back to the front door and grabbed all three pairs of their shoes. The corridors were far less noisy this time. All of the residents, like Mizuchi had said, were outside, savouring the last faint breezes of summer. Knowing the weather, it would soon turn for the cooler, and Shou knew he would be missing it.

“You two go on ahead, then,” Adelheid said. “I’ll just get my shoes on.”

Shou gave a nod, and turned back to Judai, who followed. It was clear Judai wanted to spring ahead and surprise Kagemaru, but he stayed by his side, and did not take the lead. Perhaps, Shou thought, some part of Judai was just as nervous as he was, hoping that Kagemaru would not snap with anger or outrage at what he was seeing - what, and who, the two of them had brought back.

Shou spotted him first, in his usual shaded spot, near the trees. The old man was in his wheelchair as always, alone. Tome and Mizuchi were near him, both caught up in a conversation, just out of range for Kagemaru to hear.

His hearing was getting worse, Shou had heard Tome say a while back. The two women knew. Shou approached, and Judai stuck with him.

“Kagemaru-san!”

As if by instinct, the old man turned around. Shou came up to face him.

“Ah. You’re here again, huh? Still keen on that melonpan, huh?” Kagemaru rasped. There was hints of a cough in his voice, and Shou hoped he was not in pain. The look on the old man’s face was not its usual frown, but a little more drained, somewhat empty, instead.

“We finished it,” Judai grinned. “Got it all done for next week. …Damn it, forgot to bring some,” he fretted, realising.

“Well, you’re better off saving all that for the festival. Next week, isn’t it?”

“Yes…” Shou gave a modest nod. Glancing back to the door, he saw Adelheid with her shoes on, treading carefully through the grass towards them. Judai gave a wave, and she waved back. There was not much distance left, but Judai thought to close it regardless, and he ran back towards his grandmother, guiding her towards Shou and the old man in the wheelchair.

Kagemaru, with his back to her, did not turn around.

Shou cleared his throat. The worries were starting to get a little stronger within him. Now was the time. “Kagemaru-san?”

“Yes?”

“We brought someone else over,” he said, hesitating a little. “She’s come to stay for a while.”

_What will you think? Do you remember? Please, don’t be hurt._

The old man sighed. “Another friend of yours, huh…?”

He did not need to turn around, as Judai led his grandmother into the shade under the tree. She looked on, somewhat startled, and her hands fretted, clasping and unclasping, then settling down in a grip on each other. The smile on her face was not without fear.

“Hello… Who’s this sweet young face?” He sat up, trying to be polite. If he recognised her, then he was not showing it.

“This is my grandma,” Judai explained, gently nudging the white-haired woman by his side. “Say hi.”

“Hello…” She breathed out.

Kagemaru let out a grunt, confused. “Hm?”

A pause hung in the air. Adelheid’s mouth opened, but she did not speak. It was as if something was stuck in her throat - some mixture of words, or a feeling that Shou was not certain about, something that he could not define. What she had gone through, he did not know, not entirely. All he and Judai knew was what the two of them had been told the day before, as she had lain on the bed, crying, between what she had forced herself to forget, and what she knew she would always remember.

When she finally spoke, the words barely came out. She shook her head as she tried to compose herself.

“Oh, gosh… it really is you…”

“What are you talking about?” Kagemaru asked.

“Don’t you remember me? It has been a long time…”

“We found her, Kagemaru-san. We found her.” Shou chimed in, leaning over to face the old man. He could see something in his eyes - what, he could not put into words. Was he seeing the girl he had known in Adelheid’s face, in the way her hands twitched, in her voice? Was he seeing anything at all, or had it all been long since forgotten?

Kagemaru hesitated. “…Found her?”

“Don’t you remember little old me? Don’t you… _you grumpy old man?”_ Adelheid said, louder this time.

Shou had not expected the insult. He turned back to face Kagemaru and saw something shift within the old man. His eyes widened. His fingers began to clench around the rests of his wheelchair.

“No. This can’t be,” he mumbled, shaking his head. He coughed, his feverishness clear, but the memories in his eyes stronger than it, bringing life, and faint hints of what he could remember, back to their surface. “Oh, God. It’s you, isn’t it? Adelheid Voss? _You’re alive?”_

“Yes. I’m alive. And Judai is my grandson.”

It was as if the world had stopped in that moment. Judai was still there, by his grandmother’s side, and Shou could not drag himself away from the sight of Kagemaru. The old man had frozen. He was still breathing, but barely moving. Only the wisps his beard seemed to shift at all in the breeze. His eyes were wide, hands still. All Shou could see was the slightest, small twitch in his lip.

“…Gods above. Gods above…” He let out a ragged few words. His mouth rested agape. 

Adelheid stepped forward. “I know. It’s sudden. I tried to forget all this time.”

“Gods above,” he repeated. Kagemaru’s voice was hoarser than ever, as he struggled to speak, but it was not the fever this time. “Adelheid. Really… really… Is it really you? All this time?”

There was only a silent nod in exchange, before Adelheid reached down and took the old man - just as white-haired as she was, after all the time that had passed - into a hug, so tender that no-one could say anything. The faint sound of sobbing, from both sides, was the only audible thing. If there were words, they were swept straight out in the breeze, but there was no need to hear them. All there was, for that one fleeting moment, was the sound of realisation, and comfort, and of soft, broken crying.

“Oh, you,” Shou heard Adelheid say between sobs, as she parted from the embrace. “Oh, how you’ve changed…”

“Speak for yourself,” Kagemaru replied, one wrinkled hand wiping at the wrinkled mask surrounding his eyes. “Look at you. You’ve changed so much, and not at all…”

“Look at you, contradicting yourself. You’re right. Same as ever, grumpy old man…”

“Wait,” Judai chimed in, impatient and startled. “Did you just call him a _grumpy old man?”_

Amongst the tears, Adelheid let out a small laugh. “Pot calling the kettle black? I know, but… that one goes all the way back.”

“Really?”

Judai quirked an eyebrow. Shou tried not to laugh.

She nodded. “We all called Kagemaru-san that, even before he got all of those wrinkles. Back when he was still walking. We called him that because he used to grumble a lot, and he was always so serious…”

Kagemaru grunted back. “I couldn’t help it; damn medical school does that to you…”

“Did it really make such a grump out of you? Or did you do that to yourself?”

“Oh, speak for yourself, woman…” He let out a heavy sigh, head dipping into his hands. “I can’t believe it. Adelheid Voss. Alive all this time, and back in Yanaka… and with _family…”_ He looked up, unable to conceal his surprise, or the smile that forced its way onto his features. His hand ran through what was left of his hair as he turned to Judai. “Did you know? About… about her? And that you were kin to her?”

Judai shrugged, shaking his head as he said it. “No. That’s the thing. We only found out when Shou called her by her old name.”

Kagemaru’s eyes turned to Shou.

“And how… did you?” 

“I don’t know. I just… guessed. Something told me I was going to be right,” Shou confessed. It was all a rush in his head, even as he thought back to it. The details had gone by too fast.

“Well, you damn got it right. I still can’t believe it… she’s alive, she came back…”

Shou still could not believe it, deep down. He had blurted out a guess on a whim, and it had been right - scarily right - but the stakes had been high. It had been some kind of miracle.

_A miracle… in a sea of coincidences,_ he thought. _First how my grandfather died, then Judai turning out to be related to Adelheid._ How it was all real, he could not begin to guess. “So, wait. Kagemaru-san, is that what you meant?”

He looked up. “What do you mean, what I meant?

“Back when I overheard you. You told me history was repeating itself. And… if Adelheid’s come back, then… is that what you were talking about?”

Some part of Shou wanted to run and hide at the memory of how he had angered Kagemaru, months ago, when he had let his small secret slip. He had been ashamed for a long time, knowing that he had overheard something he should not have, and he could only look back with embarrassment still. It had been wrong, and he knew it.

Still, it had guided him down so many paths. He had found his grandfather’s diary, and so many papers and photographs, and listened to stories he had never imagined were true. History had filled him with fear, but it had given him so much amazement, all at once, and he could not imagine being without that knowledge, not any more. It had changed him, and all that he knew.

It had changed his entire world.

“That? Oh… no, no, not that. I had no idea,” Kagemaru shook his head. “I didn’t think I’d ever see Adelheid Voss ever again, not in my time on this earth.”

“Was it the melonpan, then?”

“No. Not even that.”

“Then, what was it?” Judai joined in, asking.

“Hm… well, I do wonder myself. Why did I say that?” Kagemaru leaned back, one finger tapping his chin as he thought. ”Maybe… no, I know it. I know I’ve been a fool all this time, believing in history repeating itself. You two have been out there, digging up the old past, and bringing it back? No, I couldn’t have guessed half of the things I’d see you two doing. But, still, I was wrong. You aren’t the same people. You’re you, as you are - and the thing I was thinking of is something for you to decide."

“Decide _what?”_

There was a small, knowing smile on Kagemaru’s lips, but Shou could not tell what the old man was hiding behind it.

“What you two really want.”

Shou didn’t understand. It was too vague. “What?”

“Don’t think about the past as much as you ought to dwell on the present,” the old man continued. “History shouldn’t decide what happens for you in the present. You can learn from some things, but other things are your decision. You should be out there, making those decisions already. If they happen to be the same ones as before, then all of it was of your own volition, and not because you were told to. You can learn from the past, but you shouldn’t let it force you, or scare you.”

“Force us? Into _what?”_

_“Anything._ Your grandparents had their own past, and you have your future to tend to. What your grandfather and Amamiya did with Amaruya was their decision. But how you two decide to go on, as _companions…_ that’s up to you to decide on your own. _Do what your own heart wants.”_

_What my own heart wants,_ Shou pondered. _What does it want? What do I want, really?_

“Maybe you’ll find something within, but decide on your own. You decided to find out about the past, didn’t you?”

He still did not understand what Kagemaru meant, not entirely, but there was one small thought in the back of his mind. He thought it a little longer, and it flickered, on and off, like the dance of a candle-light.

He knew what he wanted, deep down. What he couldn’t shake off was the terrible feeling that Kagemaru had not understood him. He had made it all sound so simple, but the old man had not known the truth - or, at the very least, he hoped he had not. It still made him cringe, burying his face in his pillow whenever he thought about the way he had been feeling for weeks, if not for months, down at the very core.

The past was one thing, and the present another, but it he was not safe. He could not take the risk. Judai was too dear a friend to lose.

Either way, he was sure, the festival was on the horizon. It was too much. He would have to stay quiet. He would try not to think for a while, he decided, as he lost himself in the midst of the conversation that sprang up once more between Judai’s grandmother and Kagemaru. He tried not to think of the time, or any consequences, and listened as it went on, dipping deeper and deeper into the past, finding a place by Judai’s side.

He lost himself in the memories as they were shared, and in the sharing of comfort. He had brought himself close, and maybe a little too close, he thought, as he fought the urge to lean in. It was tempting, he thought, to rest his head on Judai’s shoulder, but it was not right.

_What would he think? What do I think?_

_I think I still like him._

He could not bear to lose Judai’s friendship, not so much because of the festival and the stall they would be running together, but because of all he had done and said, and the way he had been. His feelings would hurt, he knew, if he kept them cooped up, but he had no choice. It would come down to this.

His feelings could wait, no matter how much it filled him with ache, and how that ache grew, day by day, just at the mere touch of a comforting hand, or the call of a voice, or the soft light that seemed to emanate from each smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your love and support so far! I love every nice comment I get.
> 
> Next week is going to be OVER 9000 - in the literal sense, it's the longest chapter in this fic if I'm not mistaken. It might get split into two but... maybe not? I don't know. Three words: bread and fireworks.
> 
> See you next week, same-ish time. Comments are appreciated so leave one on the way out!


	21. Ch. 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Around 9000 words. I'm so sorry, I'm tired.

**_ chapter nineteen. _ **

The morning was vivid on the day of the festival, and a clear night would follow that evening. It was what all of Yanaka was saying.

The day before, Shou had walked past one of the shrines and heard the voice of its priest. He had stopped, not far from the entrance, just enough to hear his low calls and the sweeping of a broom in the hands of a shrine maiden, both of them praying for the sky to clear, just for the event.

The winds had blown over the course of the night and scattered the clouds, and word had spread through the streets that all of their prayers had been granted.

Shou’s ears still rang with the noise of countless voices, long after the loudest crowds had passed.

People had been coming and going all afternoon. The crowds had started to gather as the sun grew warmer, even in the September cool. The leaves had not yet begun to turn red, but they would soon, and as people came out to see the colours and sights of the September festival, it was as if they were coming out for one last taste of fine weather. Dusk was coming earlier and earlier already. Summer had long since ended.

He gave the still-sparse crowd a glance, thinking back to years in the past. His memories were not always clear, but seldom had his family ever missed a festival. They would go out at the height of the crowds at his mother’s insistence, his father shaking his head at the bare mention of crowds, but coming out all the same.

It was best not to speak to his father on the day after. It was a fact he had learned the hard way.

With the light came the quiet. At dusk, and afterwards, was when the festival came alive, every year. Before then was more silence - just enough, he thought - as the stalls set up and lanterns were strung. Paths were cleared. Vendors straightened out their clothing, knowing there would be no time later. They had time, and Shou gave a sigh just thinking of it. There was only so much melonpan he and Judai had prepared.

He had to be thankful for Eri being willing to help. He and Judai had spent the entirety of the day before in Miracle Fusion’s kitchen, making enough melonpan for the entire festival - and the entire kitchen, he thought with a laugh. How Eri had approved of the whole thing, he was still uncertain.

They were lucky, he thought, to have her on board, baking the bread in as many batches as she could fit in their oven. All morning, and some of the night before, they had been kneading and cutting up dough. Shou could still feel a slight ache in his fingers from it.

How his father had allowed him a day off without explanation, he did not know either.

_That priest was right,_ he thought, thinking of a silent prayer. _The gods, or God, or whatever spirits are with us, really are looking down._ If his grandfather was watching, then he would make him proud.

By his side, leaning back on what would be their stall, Judai yawned, looking up at the sky. “How long to go?”

The sounds were already beginning to pick up, long before evening. Yukata-clad visitors had started to gather, but they were sparse, and Shou didn’t have his phone with him to check on the time. Few of the other stalls were selling yet, waiting just for the right open to put up their wares. 

“Well, it’s already starting. It’ll pick up a lot more in the evening, though. I mean, it’s OK if we don’t have anything now,” Shou said, thinking back to festivals past. He had never been in charge of a stall before. The closest he had come was the year before, when Mizuchi’s father had asked him to help out with drinks at the House of Flowers’ own stall, and count the money they would give back to the House.

The elders of the House had come by, wishing them fortune for that day and the evening. Adelheid would be there in a few hours with her husband, and the rest of Judai’s family. They had to make them all proud.

She had already sampled the bread, but there was far more to it. She had decided to come to the festival, even if it meant changing her plans to travel through all of Japan, as her daughter had planned - but there had been no stopping her, Judai had told him with laughter. His grandmother - and it still felt a little strange to Shou, that Judai was calling the same Adelheid that - had protested, and demanded to come, for the fireworks and the lights and the sounds.

_There’s nothing like it in New York, not if you tell them to host it. It’s not the same. Only here, only this time, only this place, where I grew up,_ she had said, strongly and brashly and with a tear in her eye.

He had to impress her, too, Shou knew. His mother would come along, most likely, as she did most years, but not his father. His father hated the noise and the people. What he would be doing, he did not know.

_Probably sleeping, if it’s even possible to with this much noise on the streets._

Their shop was a short walk away, out of the centre of Yanaka, but nestled comfortably in amidst the small, time-worn streets. His father seemed to favour that quiet.

A quick chime sounded out, and he saw Judai fish out his phone from his pocket. He had not taken his jacket off yet, leaving it over his own yukata, and his festival happi still lay by the side of the stall, as of yet unused. From what he said next, it would be time to put it on soon.

“We can get the first batch now. Mom’s got it sorted, she’ll be here in five!”

Shou gave a nod in agreement.

It was still a little unreal in his mind, that he would be at the forefront of it. He would be selling his and Judai’s melonpan after weeks of work and mess and attempts gone terribly wrong and terribly right - and as he remembered from the Sunday before - terribly, terribly perfect.

“Eh,” Judai sighed. “Feels kinda weird, though… Where’s Mizuchi?”

“Over there. Her brother’s on the other side,” Shou pointed, glimpsing a flash of blue-black hair stark-bright against the back of a white yukata. Mizuchi had pinned her hair up, and he had almost not recognised her that morning. He had seen her only with her hair down for as long as he had known her, and it felt strange - but it suited her, she admitted. Side-by-side with her brother, as she had seen her in the morning, she had dressed herself like a true festival-goer.

He could see the clipboard in her arms, and she had been searching around for as many pens as she could take. The petition was done, already signed a few hundred times on the streets in the weeks before - but this time would be the most important, Shou knew. The festival would draw crowds from half of Tokyo, and maybe even beyond.

It would be hard, but they had friends on their side, from the House and Miracle Fusion, and they did not have to wait long for Eri to come. She had been half-running, Shou could tell from the flush on her face, with a large plastic box in her hands. Picking it up, Shou thought that she had made a mistake for an instant, and brought one of her cakes - but as soon as they rested it on the stall’s edge and opened it up, the warm, pleasant scent hit, and Shou’s own stomach began to crave melonpan.

It was a fight to keep himself from it, but he had to, he knew. He was already tired, with the festival still up ahead. Judai laughed and called him a sleepyhead, and he found himself laughing too.

Difficult as it was, it would be worth it, he decided - worth it, so many times. They would get money and signatures and keep the House of Flowers running, and that had been their plan for weeks and months now. The wish had only grown stronger with time, and Shou found it hard not to think of the house without remembering Adelheid.

If Judai’s grandmother cherished the House, then they had more and more faces to fight for. Even if their efforts would fail, they would carry on going. _We won’t give up,_ Mizuchi had said, hand slamming down on her desk and making papers fly.

Her brother had only shuffled his cards and drawn once; what he had drawn, he had not revealed.

Eri could not stay for long. There was more bread to prepare, and with a quick, “Thank you!”, she they were alone again - but not on their own, not any more.

Shou could feel people beginning to turn in their direction. The smell of bread would spread and draw attention soon. The afternoon would go on, and more and more people would come. They had come far. There was no going back now. They had worked out their recipe, and they had freshly-baked melonpan.

History would repeat itself, running the course they decided.

He took a breath in, bracing himself for the selling that would come soon. It would not be much different from Amaruya, or from the cafe, he knew. It would be busier, but that was all. Eri would bring them more bread. Their money box was ready, and Mizuchi was not far away with all of her papers.

A faint nudge from Judai surprised him.

“So, you want to get started?” His hand rested up on his shoulder.

Shou tried to hide his blush. “All right.”

It was clearly not well hidden enough, because something about Judai told him he did not believe it. He tilted his head, curious. “What’re you so nervous about?”

“I’m not, I swear,” Shou insisted, knowing that the beat of his heart would betray him. Part of him wanted to run, but he had to stay, and he knew it. He could not leave Judai behind, or the melonpan they had spent so long working about. The past would not destroy anything - he could not let it, and that was why they had decided to bring back the bread, he remembered.

They would help the House of Flowers, and make Adelheid smile, and keep Yanaka the way that it had been for so long, with just a small change. If Miracle Fusion was welcome, then the House of Flowers was rooted in what Yanaka held dear - it was the sign that their little town was open to all, and full of passion for what people loved, whether others, or flowers, or the sweetness of cake.

He wanted to dream, but now was not the time, and all Shou knew he could do was work hard, and keep on keeping hope.

“I’m all right, seriously,” he said again. “Promise…”

Judai let out a small laugh. “Well, if that’s what you say. But, hey, even if you are, then you don’t have to worry. We’re both here, we know people here - oh, _hey!”_

He waved, suddenly letting out a shout before Shou could say anything.

_“Hey, come over!”_

He didn’t understand what Judai was shouting at until he reached over even more, waving his hand for attention.

“Hey, Misawa!” 

_Oh,_ Shou realised, seeing the familiar face not far in front of them.

Misawa stopped, turning around. His eyes widened a little in surprise. He was in ordinary day-to-day clothes, not a yukata, and it looked somewhat strange for a visitor. Some of the organisers and stall-holders were still rushing around in their clothes, and Shou mistook him for one of the runners at first, until he came a little closer.

“Hm? Ah, Judai…” He trailed off, voice lost in the crowd. Realising he was surrounded by noise, he came closer to the stall. “What are you two selling?”

“Melonpan,” Judai grinned. “Want a try? First of the batch.”

“Hmm…” Misawa peered over, looking closer at the bread on display. He raised an eyebrow. “Bit strange. Melonpan? At a festival?”

“Trust me, it’s worth it.”

“Well, I’m not going to question it. How much?”

He fumbled around in his pockets, searching for change. Shou handed him the bread with a smile of his own. Judai took the money, and coins clattered contently into the box. It was already looking full, the bottom long since obscured by gold and silver and a couple of notes, spread out wide. 

Things were looking good, Shou thought with a smile.

Even if it was strange, the melonpan didn’t seem to faze Misawa’s tastes too much. He sank his teeth into the melonpan, smiling as he mulled over the sweetness.

“Pretty good, actually,” he said, tempted to take another bite immediately after. “Is it for that thing you were talking about? You know, the old folks’ home?”

Judai continued. “Yeah. This is what we were doing for the House. We just kept it quiet. If you want to sign the petition, Mizuchi’s got some. Tome-san too. They’re over there,” he called out, pointing out towards the other side of the path where they were. He could just see the top of Mizuchi’s head amongst the gathering crowd, her papers held up high and flashing bright white in the dimming light of the evening.

Shou joined in, hoping Misawa would do it. Even one more name on the list would be worth it, he knew. “Would you sign it? Please?”

The look on Misawa’s face didn’t change. “Of course.”

“Thank you. It means a lot, seriously,” Shou nodded, relieved.

“Guess that place is pretty important to you, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s really important to me, and to everyone else too,” he admitted, not caring to spill all of the details. Misawa was kind, but he did not need to know how Shou had spent a year without friends of his own age, and longed only for the few hours each weekend he would spend with the elders. As much as he loved them, it was still a little too much for him to confess, not without feeling awkward and weak in anyone else’s eyes.

He changed the topic. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Misawa said, tearing off another piece of melonpan. Some of it crumbled away in his hands, and he laughed as the crumbs fell through his fingers.

“You here alone, or is your family around?” Judai chimed in, leaning in to hear better amidst all of the noise.

Misawa seemed to hesitate for a moment. One hand tugged at his sleeve, but drifted away as soon as he saw Shou looking back. “Just me,” he mumbled.

Shou could head his voice quieten down as he tried to look away. Whatever he was hiding, he wanted to know, but did not feel at ease enough to ask. “My mother’s around, but she’s with her friends.”

“No Manjoume?” Judai continued, and Shou wondered if he had noticed Misawa’s awkwardness. “You’d think something like this would sweeten that sourpuss up.”

“I… haven’t seen him around.”

“Might be for the best,” he smirked. “I mean, I don’t know how anyone puts up with him, even if he does do cool things with his coffee.”

“Judai…” Shou eased in, conscious. It felt rude to talk behind someone’s back, even if Misawa was probably in agreement, and the two of them knew Manjoume far better than he did. His father’s voice was complaining again, and he had to beat it down harder. The complaining was always hard to ignore.

“What, he’s such a pain in the butt…”

Judai moaned, but stopped nonetheless. The look on his face was less pained and more playful, and it was something Shou couldn’t help but join in and laugh at. He could swear he heard Misawa laughing along too, a little more quietly but audibly still.

He didn’t look up for a few seconds more, but when he did, the look on Misawa’s face had changed, into one that seemed a little more at ease. He let out a sigh of relief.

Misawa looked back, somewhat awkward.

What it was, Shou didn’t notice at first, and didn’t say anything until Judai asked, butting in somewhat. “What?”

“Nothing,” Misawa cringed away, the grin on his face a little too knowing for Shou to settle down. If he was hiding something, it was too obvious - but Misawa didn’t look worried, nor scared. If anything, he was too close to breaking out into laughter again. “You just reminded me of an old married couple.”

Shou felt his face sear with embarrassment.

“Hey, we’re not married! Or old. Or… a couple,” Judai insisted.

It only made Misawa laugh a little more under his breath, and Shou couldn’t help but snigger himself. Judai wasn’t angry - not quite, he knew, but playing along still, and the look on his face was just asking to be laughed at, or along with.

How Judai could entice him into laugher and happiness, Shou did not know. It was as if he radiated that happiness, and all whom he touched took some of it in and made it their own. It was like some kind of gift, he thought. Judai’s laughter was contagious, and he was lucky to have him, just like this, close enough, by his side.

_Old married couple,_ he thought, shaking his head. _Of all the things, why?_

The thought of it did not seem as silly as Misawa was probably imagining it, not in his head. His chest was warm, wishing he could come closer, hands wanting comfort and attachment. He had so many words - and so few, he realised, that he could let himself say out loud - of gratitude and appreciation, and he could not begin to express himself. He was not brave enough, he knew, to admit everything in front of Judai, knowing what they had done, and how close they had grown, and how in the months that had passed, he had become the dearest friend he had had in his life.

They could see the crowds gathering as Misawa drew out of sight. Mizuchi’s voice did not falter. He could see hands reaching out, paper being written upon - and that was all in between glances. He did not have much time that evening, as it went on, to look back.

Eyes met their stall, curious ones of all kinds. Shou lost count of how many came to them surprised, asking about melonpan at a festival, but so many more laughed and smiled and gave their coins for their bread. On went the afternoon, and it eased into evening, then into darkening time until it almost looked like night, but how Judai still kept his energy mystified him. 

There was no stopping now. He reminded himself, over and over and over - and on went the evening, crumbs on the ground and coins in their box, and ever-so-often he would see Mizuchi with more and more marks on the papers, and more and more sheets in her arms.

He had almost collapsed with exhaustion at one point between batches of melonpan, only to be caught by a steadier hand. He had wanted to scream, deep on the inside. How Judai had saved him, and how he had kept going for so long, he could not begin to guess. _Still,_ he had said, _take a break. I’ll take one too, just for a moment._

Nodding, Shou put up the sign and stepped out from the stall. He could barely stand up. Sighing, he leaned back on a nearby tree, and watched Judai take his place by his side, wiping his forehead. 

“Phew…” Judai breathed out. “This is insane… You weren’t kidding. Those crowds…”

Shou couldn’t tell if it was serious or an exaggeration. Not even in PE class had he ever seen Judai truly tired out. He watched him lean back against the same tree, eyes looking up to the sky, as if searching for somewhere a little away from the surrounding bustle of people. 

It would only get busier from now on, Shou thought. A break would be worth it. Copying Judai, he let out a sigh. His heart was only just beginning to calm down after the surprise of the ‘old married couple’, and he could only hope that Judai would not notice.

When Judai looked over, he tried to look away, but did not expect the topic to have already changed.

“Shou? Listen, I’ve been thinking about doing something.”

“Huh?”

“Well, this is going to sound nuts.”

From what he could remember, Judai had thought of the melonpan idea, and Shou had been the one calling it strange at the start. Time had passed, and Judai had not led him astray. All was well, and this time, he could be far more hopeful.

“What is it?”

There was something a little awkward about the way Judai spoke, looking around side-to-side first, as if in the hope that nobody around them was listening. He hesitated a little, first clearing his throat, before he could finally turn back and admit what he had been thinking.

“Maybe we underestimated you guys. You’ve got so much in that tea shop.”

It wasn’t what Shou had expected, but far stranger. Judai was never one to admit his mistakes, and he had rarely, if ever, been positive about tea. Even the mention of it seemed to make him gag, comically so, but this time was serious. His eyes were honest, a little proud - but Shou could tell, deeply admiring.

He didn’t know what to say back, thinking of only what it all mean, and ever-so-slightly blushing.

“I guess…”

“So, here’s the thing,” Judai continued, a little more confidently. “Mom kind of wanted me to ask first, but… would you guys consider some kind of partnership?”

Shou raised a brow. “A partnership? What do you mean?”

“Like… well, we don’t really have much tea at Miracle Fusion. And I mean, you’re right. Some people just don’t like coffee. I mean, we could always get in some kind of other fancy tea, but it just seemed like a better idea if we could get it from you guys,” Judai said, looking over.

It wasn’t something Shou thought he would ever hear come from Judai’s own mouth, from the ery person who had almost insulted his family’s business and said nothing about it. Some part of what he was hearing felt like a joke, or a dream - but Judai was not one to play with his feelings, not from what he had grown to recognise, and maybe even to… love, he thought with a blush.

He tried to speak up, making sense of it all bit by bit. “So… you want to buy tea from us?”

“It’s just an idea we were discussing last night, I mean,” Judai hesitated again, fingers playing with one another in an attempt to keep calm. “It’d be cool if we served something like that. We’d be supporting you guys and getting word out there if anyone doesn’t know about Amaruya. And we’d probably be able to sell more cake that way. You don’t have to say yes to it. It’s just a crazy thing I suggested.”

Shou thought about it, a small smile creeping onto his face, growing the more he considered it. What Judai had come up with that he had called crazy once had grown into something amazing. The scent of sweet melonpan still clung to his hands, and it would not be something he would forget, even if he was to never bake bread again. It had changed him, in ways he had not imagined. They were on the verge of saving the House.

After one crazy idea, he knew another was not so far out of reach. He already knew his own answer.

“…I like it,” he said, nodding gently. “I think it would be good to try.”

“Hell _yes!”_ Judai yelled, a little too loudly. Shou didn’t stop smiling, even as he blushed at the sound of it. Judai didn’t seem to care, his own smile wide with excitement at the news. “This is going to be great. sHell, we might even be able to do that ice cream thing! Imagine how much we could sell if we sold ice cream! Just wish you had that old thing so we could try it…”

The sound of all his ideas hitting at once made Shou’s head spin. He could not help but want to go with them all. Judai had been strange to him at the start, but in the end, he had not been wrong. He did not feel scared, not with him guiding the way. If Judai was to reach out his hand, he would take it, he knew. Even if he did hesitate, he would take it, and do what he could, no matter whatever the challenge.

For once, he knew what he wanted, and the feeling was as strange as it was incredible. It was as if his fatigue had almost all gone from him.

“Oh man,” Judai shook his head with his thoughts. “It’s so surreal, right?”

“What is?”

“If we hadn’t gone looking for that ice cream maker you were talking about, we wouldn’t have found the book. We wouldn’t have found out all of that stuff Kagemaru told us. I don’t even know if you’d have gotten to meet my grandma. We wouldn’t have found out about her, and all that she went through. I didn’t know that. So, thanks.” 

The feeling of Judai’s hand, suddenly firm on his shoulder in reassurance, almost made him gasp in surprise. He had to swallow down the feelings that were rushing through him in that instant, at just the touch of his hand, but even with out it, it was still hard to think straight.

Months ago, he would not have been able to imagine that Judai, of all people, would be thanking him seriously.

“…For what?” He looked back, unsure exactly what Judai meant, even if the feeling of being so close was too strong to back away from.

“For being my friend. All of this time.”

He wanted to hide away, to make sure Judai would never see him blush at something so trivial, but he could not back out, either. He did not want to, not really - he was embarrassed, but this was Judai. _My friend,_ he reminded himself, _only my friend. Not… not anything else,_ he knew.

_We’re not like an old married couple, because we’ll never be one._

“Then, thank you to you too,” he said, humbly.

They didn’t have long to rest up. The sky was already getting darker, and more and more festival-goers were beginning to gather around. Many of them would be customers, and as they headed off back to work, they could barely afford to look at each other, save for brief reassurance that all was going to work.

The bread was warm, and the smiles they saw back filled both of their hearts with the same kind of pleasure, all through the evening.

They didn’t stop, save for quick breaks without customers, until the blue of the sky began to turn dark. Lanterns were beginning to stand out more as they were lit, brighter and brighter. In the cooling wind, they shone, dancing around in the twilight. Sunset came and went, and took the last heat of the lingering summer along with it.

Amidst a sky as gentle as still, soothing lake water, Yanaka turned to colour and light. The golden beams of the sun had reddened leaves on the trees, and turned them to black. The lanterns turned brighter.

Shou found himself captivated, looking around in in the aftermath, unable to take his eyes away from the sight of it all. Even after years of seeing the festival, he still found his awe hard to describe. How Judai was feeling, he could only guess with a glance.

His throat was beginning to hurt from all of the loud talk from the day and the evening. Crowds had never been his element, and shouting had taken out most of his energy from the day. His eyes did not know whether to shut out of fatigue or to stay open, admiring all of the lights - all of Yanaka’s beauty, just for that evening.

The day before, the lanterns had not been there. Up they had sprung, like a miracle; and just like that, he knew they would not be there the day after. Where they would go, Shou did not know. He had wondered about them only as a child, and had simply stopped wondering as the years passed. He had never found out, not in what would soon be eighteen years of life in Yanaka.

_Eighteen,_ he realised. _I’m eighteen in… sixteen hours, or something like that._

It was only a guess. He had no watch, and had left his phone at home. The hours had passed like a flash, one after the other in a sea of smiles and wild voices and cheering and fluttering heartbeats.

He had lost count of bright eyes and voices and hands, thick and thin and small, both adults and children. His eyes could still see bright shades of a thousand yukata draped and tied, each one somehow different, even in small ways.

The hundreds of _thank you_ s were refusing to leave him, the feeling of pure contentment and happiness nesting inside his chest like a dove. His hands ached a little, but his heart was full, swelling with warmth. What pain and fatigue he could feel was washed out by the feelings of love and affection he felt for all of the faces he had seen that afternoon, whose eyes had widened at the sight of something as strange as their melonpan stall, and who had been met with surprise happiness at the taste of something they probably had not expected.

“We did it,” Judai said with a sigh, next to him.

He was tired, just as he was. The crowd was beginning to move away, leaving behind nothing but paper and napkins as they left for the fireworks. Shou, too, breathed in relief. They had worked hard, and done as much as they could.

The box they were to give to Mizuchi had grown heavy with coins, lined through with notes. Looking at it, it seemed more and more like a chest of treasures than the box of change it had started out as. All of it would go to the House, and with it came the petition. The last he had seen of it, it had grown and changed. An hour ago, he had glimpsed Mizuchi in the crowd, and she had been carrying a thick bundle of papers.

“They have to keep the House open. They have to,” Shou replied, hope filling his chest and soothing at the ache in his arms.

All would be well, he reminded himself.  He breathed in, tasting the cool autumnal air, full of hope.

The wind picked up for a moment, spreading cool, pleasant air. The crowds were beginning to clear. All around, traders were beginning to pack up their stalls, untying banners and sheets as they flapped around, only partly attached. The festival looked strange without crowds, almost devoid, but it was not unpleasant. With the growing quiet around them, they were almost alone.

He had Judai by his side, warm and relaxed and pleasant. The loneliness he had wallowed in months ago was dead, trampled into the ground by the feet of all those who had come by that day.

He needed to thank Judai.

Without him, he would never have come to sell at the festival. The melonpan recipe would never have worked out. None of his dreams - to bring something back, to see and hear the truth of his family’s history, even being here and now, having helped the House at the festival - would have come true.

Judai had brought Adelheid home, even just for a while. The ones she had loved were long gone, dead and taken by time, but she had come home in the end. The memory of Judai’s grandmother, tears of joy and lost desire in her eyes, sparkling as she embraced her old friend, made his heart swell with pride.

_We brought back the melonpan. We…we actually did it. We repeated history. And we’re still friends, no matter what Kagemaru was scared might happen. We’re safe, or I hope so, at least._

Glancing back at Judai - warm, wonderful Judai -he hoped he was right.

They had long since run out of bread. The scent of warm sweetness lingered on in the new autumn air. Soon, there would be fireworks.

Judai turned back to face him, letting out a sigh of relief as he took the box of change into his arms. He was tired, clearly so, but willing enough to hold on.

“You want to come put this away, then go watch the fireworks?”

It was as if he had read Shou’s mind. He jumped with surprise, heart beating a little too quickly as the blush came into bloom on his face. His hands clasped together. Why he was suddenly fidgeting, he did not understand - it was the same reason his face was feeling a little warmer, and his heartbeat was unsteady, every time he heard Judai invite him, or say something kind.

_Why? Why am I like this?_

He already knew the answer, and had known it for weeks. Accepting it was a whole other question. 

“All right,” Shou replied. “Have you seen Mizuchi?”

“Um, no…”

He looked up at Judai’s eyes. They shone bright still, through the hesitation, and even though he had been hard at work all day. Sweet bliss met his eyes in the light of a nearby lantern.

It was strange, Shou thought, how he wanted to stare; but the longer he spent looking at him, helplessly against what he desired, the more he could see. It was growing darker around them, with the lanterns going out one by one and the sky already black. Somehow, their light remained lit, painting Judai’s features shades of warm orange, tracing the thick outline of his hair, like flames in the light.

He clasped his hands together, trying to keep himself stable. It was stupid, he thought; _why am I staring? Why do I want to keep staring at him? What is it about him? The way that he smiles, or how warm his hands are, or that there’s something cute about his eyes?_

_Wait, cute?_

He thought back to what Judai had said, weeks ago at the coffee shop.

_God damn it,_ he cringed. _Why do I… like him? What do I see in him? Why? Why him of all people?_

_Why do I think he’s attractive? His eyes? His hands? The way he smiles? How kind he’s been, even if he’s so different? How he’s always been there? How good he looks in whatever he wears? How…_

Shou blushed.

_…how I want to kiss him…_

Judai paused, seeing him fidgeting. “Shou, are you cold?”

“N-no…”

Blood rushed to his head. It was silly. He knew it; there was no point in even trying to get his feelings across. There was nothing special about Judai. Judai had always been Judai to him, never the person of his dreams, nor anything like the vague concept of what he had always thought of as his ‘soulmate’. He had never been a believer in fate.

Fate was something others could believe in as much as they liked, but Shou had never been able to do so. He and Judai were not fated to be together - no matter how handsome Judai looked in the light -because fate did not exist. He did not believe in it, not for one second, even if history really was on the verge of repeating himself and threatened to take Judai away from him.

He could not believe it, and never would.

“Shou?”

What Shou blurted out was the first thing on his mind. “You said I was cute a while back.”

He regretted it as soon as it came. He could feel the blood rush to his head, but he couldn’t move fast enough to escape. He couldn’t move an inch. His feel felt anchored down to the ground as Judai’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the comment.

Judai blushed, trying to look away. One hand awkwardly twirled at a stray lock of hair. “Yeah, I kinda did…”

Shou paused, taking it in. It felt strange, almost like some kind of joke, but the awkwardness in Judai’s tone left him uncertain. Hearing the same thing again was, for once, far from reassuring, only confusing instead. Some part of him knew it to be nothing more than stupidity or something light-hearted, but what he wanted, deep down, was for it to be serious.

It was the very thing his heart would race for in hope.

He took a breath in, trying to get what he wanted across. “…What did you mean back then?”

“I… I meant, you looked nice,” Judai said, an awkward smile leaving him teetering between guilty and innocent. “I mean, it just slipped out. I don’t know why I said that.”

Shou took a breath in. His knees wobbled, jsut for a second, but as he breathed out, he forced himself to stand straight. “Judai?”

“What?”

He stumbled over his own words for an instant, before forcing it out. “You look nice, too.”

It was far from a straightforward confession - not even his head or his heart knew if Judai understood it, and he could not simply hope either. Even he didn’t understand what he had suggested at first. The thought of it made his blood rush and his head spin with feelings he didn’t understand, or express, or push out into the open. It was the most he could do in that instant.

He couldn’t say it directly.

The silence that followed chilled, settling down like the sick feeling of guilt in his stomach. Judai was still, saying nothing - and there he was, in front of him like a sitting duck ready to be shot down, face burning up with embarrassment and stupidity.

_I screwed up,_ he realised. _Either he didn’t get me, or he did, and he doesn’t like me like that._ There wasn’t another explanation - if there was, then he expected Judai to stop him from turning around and leaving, to tell him that he had either been terribly wrong, or terribly right.

The emptiness in the air told him the former. Judai didn’t love him. There was shock in his eyes.

He wanted to hide, and to run, but there was nowhere to go other than home, out of the light of the lanterns and into the crowd, where he would be a nobody just for a while. 

Judai probably wouldn’t want to see him, he thought, not for a while.

He couldn’t face him as he stepped back, head heavy like the weight of bricks was resting on his shoulders. The heat from his face began to spread, down to his chest and into the heart. Where it had once warmed, it now burned - and stabbed, painfully stabbed.

He let out a murmur, not caring if Judai didn’t hear as he turned. “Thanks for everything. I’ll see you Monday, all right?”

“Wait, aren’t there going to be fireworks?” Judai chimed.

“Yeah, there are.”

“Aren’t you going to watch them?”

Shou stopped. It felt awkward to carry on speaking, not when Judai didn’t understand him, and he couldn’t say what he truly felt. “I… I don’t know. I might skip out…”

“Weren’t you really excited? You said we’d go see them together.”

“Yeah, I mean…” He trailed off, shaking his head. It didn’t matter. He was done for the night. It didn’t matter - he would just ask about the fireworks some other time. They would be no different than any other year’s fireworks. For once in his life, he wanted to be alone, and he wanted to hurt. He wanted the pain to wash out what little happiness he had felt, and what little hope he had had that Judai would see him as he did. It had been no use. He had no words, and Judai did not think of him as he did - 

“You’re cute.”

Shou froze, a shiver running down his spine. His chest squeezed. “…Huh?”

“I said you’re cute,” Judai repeated. “Will you come with me now?”

It didn’t feel right. Whatever was off about it, Shou couldn’t tell. There was definite confusion in the way Judai had spoken, and he wondered if he really had misunderstood. It didn’t make any sense.

He turned around. “Why are you saying that?”

“Because I really do think you’re cute. You said something about that, and if you want me to say it again, I’ll say it as many times as you like, or… whatever you like.”

His eyes widened. _Cute._ He’d heard it again, and it only made his heart beat that little bit faster. It was just like the last time, and some part of him called it painful, no matter how magical it felt to hear it, just one more time, and for it to sound genuine.

“…Judai?”

“Hm?”

He still couldn’t say it out loud, but both a question and answer were within reach. “If I asked you to go back to Miracle Fusion and grab me some cake right now, would you do it?”

It made him cringe, realising how it sounded once it came out, but it was all he could think of. He couldn’t focus, and he couldn’t let himself run. No matter how unsteady his feet were, and how his fists needed to squeeze together for him to keep hold of himself, he had to stay focused. He had to stay, even if his thoughts and how he was feeling were embarrassing him. He was on fire, from the inside and out, and now was the time to either fight back that fire, or to let it consume him.

Judai hesitated at first, looking up as he thought. “Um, well, we might not have any done at the moment, but any other time, sure.”

“Would you get me three slices?”

“Three? Sure.”

“Would you get me the entire cake?”

“Yeah.”

“What if I asked you to give it to me for free, would you do that?”

“You can have _all of it_ if you like,” he blurted out, almost carelessly.

It was then that Shou began to find it a little strange. His stomach refused to settle with worry. If Judai was kind, then he was overly kind, or just tired; how free he was almost made him concerned. Was he serious? Was it all part of a joke? Did he realise?

He didn’t understand, not one bit. He had not been as puzzled about Judai for a long time, not since the day of their first meeting, when their only concerns had been the differences between tea and coffee, and a knocked over sign.

“Why?”

“Because you asked for it, and I want you to be happy,” Judai replied. ”I like making you smile. You know, it’s weird, you’re even more cute when you smile. And I really like that. I like it when you smile. I like when you laugh, or when we just do dumb things. I don’t know, I like everything.”

Hearing everything - and it was clear, no matter how loud the crowd was in the background, or how roughly the leaves brushed and rustled against one another, blown about by the wind. All of it - all of it, no matter how strange it seemed, filled Shou’s heart with a strange kind of warmth, the same kind as the one he felt when he had called him _cute._

It didn’t feel real, not quite, but the way it stormed through him, filling his head with thoughts of both apprehension and happiness was like nothing he had experienced.

“Judai?”

“Huh?”

He took a deep breath. “Do you really mean it? That you… think I’m _cute_?”

Judai shrugged at first, then paused, biting his lip as he realised, seeing the look on Shou’s face. “Yeah. I do. Does it… _freak you out?_ I mean, I’ll shut up if you want.” His words were a mess, and he struggled to say them. 

“No, I mean… I mean yes, but I mean no, but… Judai, does that mean you _like me?”_

He didn’t know what to say after that.

He didn’t know what was driving him first and foremost, the feeling of Judai’s hands clutching at his own or the beat of his heart or his mouth turning dry all of a sudden, but something was there that was far stronger than reason, and he let it run with the blood in his veins. He could not tell if it was his fault, or Judai’s, or both of them were just as guilty of leaning in, closer and closer, enough for their foreheads to touch and for their hands to feel suddenly lonely, holding nothing but air at their sides.

He could not tell who reached first, but one of them did, and the rest was a rush. Hands pressed against hands and fingers laced with more fingers, and then, seconds late, came the realisation that Judai was kissing him - and that he was kissing him back.

It was too much to pull back. He wanted to stay. For once, the feeling anchoring him to the ground and telling him that he could not run was not fear, but passion. He was kissing his best friend like he had imagined one day kissing a girl, but it didn’t matter at all - the way his heart beat, and how his hands wanted to hold on forever, tighter and tighter, was far better than any silly fantasy he had had in the past. This was real, he knew, and there would be no going back.

No part of him wanted to.

Breaking apart felt stranger than anything he had felt in a long time. The air felt suddenly cooler, the noise in the area louder. His chest ached a little, unused to how fast his heart had been beating. His hands, he realised, had dampened with sweat. Even his glasses felt a little strange on his nose.

He tried to pull them away, not wanting Judai to notice - but Judai grabbed back, not painfully but fast enough to make him jump. Looking back into his eyes, he could make out his blush, just a hint darker on his skin, illuminated by the lantern swinging in the breeze by their side.

“Judai…?”

His friend choked on his words, trying to say something but failing. Shou looked back, frozen in place.

When Judai finally spoke, it was as if he had run all the way through the neighbourhood.

“I’m sorry.”

Shou looked on, confused. His stomach turned, still wild from the shock of the kiss. He understood what Judai meant, but wished he did not have to think about it. “About… _that?”_

“Yeah.”

“No,” Shou murmured, trying to hide the burn of his blush. “It’s OK.”

Judai let out a small cough, still looking at him in the eyes. He bit his lip and took a deep breath. “I like you. A lot.”

“…I like you too.” Shou said back. It was too sudden to think.

It was the most he could say. His whole body was still in heat from the kiss. The memory of his lips was still fresh, and he could not think straight while the rush was still there. 

Judai’s eyes widened a score. Silently, processing, he parted his lips. Shou swallowed, realising he could not say anything else. The feeling - the person, the wonderful, kind and beautiful friend that he had, there and then, was all that he wanted and needed. 

_I love him,_ he thought. _I really, really do love him._

The rush of it all was making his head spin, and before he could say anything else, or even think about it, he was back to the feeling of being whole and stupidly, inexplicably happy, arms wrapping around Judai as their lips met one another again, making his vision blur and refocus. He had fallen, he knew - not just subtly or vaguely, like he had imagined it being before, but without restraint this time. There was just the breeze in the darkening sky, and the fading sounds that marked the end of the festival, and the change of the seasons ahead.

Real summer was reaching its end, as were his final hours before his eighteenth birthday. His heart leapt with happiness. He was kissing his friend, his best and closest and dearest, and it did not matter.

The feeling was perfect.

It would not matter, he decided as they pulled back for an instant for air. Judai’s eyes were somehow bright in the darkness, like warm bread and faint winter fire. If anyone was staring, then he did not care; there was nothing left to care about. He was happy. For those moments, together and free and happy with love in his hands and his heart, he could not look away. 

He could not look around, and he did not want to, and neither did anyone else that was left. The festival grounds were clearing away into nothing. Whoever was left was there to take down the signs and the stalls, and to sweep up the trash on the ground. The noise would calm down, almost completely, any time now. The wind felt that little bit softer, the air a pinch sweeter.

It still felt unreal as he pulled away. Some part of him could not believe what he had just felt and what had just happened to make the feelings run through him. He wasn’t seeing straight, or this was all just a dream was what that part of his mind was saying to him - yet, he did not want to believe it, not for a second. His hands were still touching Judai, and his lips still carried the ghost of the touch that their kisses had been.

He could hear everything clearly again. Escaping for just a few moments had made him forget the situation they were in. Not long had passed, he realised. It was still almost dark, but turning darker by the minute. The crowds were fleeting away, into another direction. 

Judai was still there, not running, not moving at all. All that was there was breaths and slight fire. His arms were still around Shou, who only just registered that they had settled there, mirroring his hold on Judai’s warm torso.

“The fireworks.” His voice was a little shaky as he tried to get his breath back. The voices around them, only just beginning to make sense again, were tell-tale of what he feared he was missing.

Judai looked on, a little confused. “Weren’t you thinking of skipping out on them?”

Shou stopped, remembering. He wanted to slap himself, but the feeling of being as he was, somehow connected to Judai, was too much to let go of. He couldn’t bear to lose the connection.

“…No. Not if you’re going.”

It didn’t matter if he was blushing, or if the smile on his face made it blatantly obvious that he liked being like this with Judai - _my friend,_ he reminded himself, _aren’t we friends still, in a way? Even if I like you and you like me back, and that makes us more?_ \- because it was enough.

He was met with a nudge. Instinctively, he loosened his grip and let Judai go.

Startled from the closeness ending all of a sudden, he stepped back. His heart began to race, more than it had during the kisses. Fear ran through him with a shock through his veins. _No,_ he realised, breaths hitching in his throat as Judai and he drew apart. _He doesn’t want to, does he?_ It had to be over; Judai didn’t want to stay like he did, and he wasn’t going to stay.

_God, no, don’t tell me this is the end of it…_

He froze, eyes wide. In the back of his mind, he imagined Kagemaru laughing at his stupidity.

_Don’t tell me it’s over, he was just joking or something -_

He let out a gasp as Judai’s hand clasped around his own, the same warmth coming back in a flood. Jerking, he looked back up into Judai’s eyes. The look on his face was not the harsh one he had envisaged. It was soft - far more gentle, more comforting than he expected, more… _loving,_ almost, he dared himself to think of the word. It was less akin to his father’s anger and more like the care he had seen in the moments between their kisses, something he was not quite accustomed to seeing on Judai, but also something he knew he did not mind seeing at all.

Judai leaned in a score, the breath of his whisper making Shou’s cheek pleasantly tingle. 

“Then, you want to get going?”

There was nothing out of the ordinary about the way it came out - it was still the same Judai, the boy he had met and befriended, who had taken his hand and pulled him out of his solitude and given him company, all of those months ago. Judai’s voice was as beckoning as it had been before, just as friendly. It was the same voice that he knew he loved, and it was not a dream. It could not be a dream, he realised as he felt the comforting squeeze around his palm, and he squeezed back, just for a second, his heartbeat refusing to slow as the panic subsided and gave way back to the same warmth that both thrilled and comforted.

Judai had not changed. It was still him, and everything felt far too real for him to be dreaming.

How someone could make him feel the way he did, he was not certain, but it was a feeling he wanted and needed. He could not dispute that, not as he shakily nodded, pointing in the direction of the crowd, and not as he tried and failed at concealing the blush on his face, even in the dull of the darkening sky and the faint glow of the lanterns.

The evening was theirs, and they would have time, under the fireworks, hand in hand and together. If they were friends still, then Shou knew it had to be special - but a part of him laughed, knowing there was something else in the way they held hands, and leaned in to each other, and how Judai whispered things that made him hold on tighter and refuse to let go in between early, still-uncertain, soft kisses. He was in love, shamelessly so, and none of his fears mattered. He did not let go.

The fireworks were ten times brighter that year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's love.
> 
> I can't believe this story will be over so soon. I just can't. It's been crazy. I've been up and down and social and not social and everywhere and nowhere. I've also just started work on a new project. It might just be my first non-yugioh fic for... literally years, and if I get it out, the first non-ygo on this account.
> 
> I have no idea if it'll ever see the light of day, but I guess it's worth trying.
> 
> Thank you so much for all your support, and leave a comment on the way out!


	22. Ch. 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings are in the tags if you need a reminder.

_** chapter twenty. ** _

The walk home felt heavier and lighter somehow, both at the same time, the smells of flowers and light, dusky smoke from the fireworks still tickling Shou’s nose.

His arms felt like wings, fingers spread out like feathers. He took in the scents and wished he could fly on the wind that brushed through his hair. His heart was still beating. His chest was light, full of air and hope and happiness - and he wanted to fly. If there was any more of a spring in his step as he strolled, he swore he would take off in an instant.

The kisses had warmed him through to the soul, in ways he had only imagined, and more.

It made his heart leap, just thinking back to what Judai had told him, both before they had gone to watch the fireworks and everything he had ended up whispering as they watched the display. The blush on his cheeks only lit up again as he thought.

The cool of the breeze melted into his skin. He felt like putting springs and skips into his walk, as if he could soar, as if nothing mattered.

_He kissed me,_ he thought, over and over, _he kissed me. He told me he loved me, or that he might, but that’s enough. Anything is enough. I’m not wrong, he said it, I’m cute, even if that feels strange… and he loves me. He loves me._

He had never looked at himself in mirrors and thought that he would enjoy being called cute, but it was cute of a different kind. Judai had not teased him for his height, or his looks. He never had, not once, right from the start, and his _cute_ had always been the kind of _cute_ he had only heard of in movies or read about in silly romance stories, ones he had long since grown tired of. Never had he thought that one day - tonight, _today_ \- it would be him being called _cute_ , and not by an adult treating him as a child, but by someone he knew he had feelings for, and who had confessed that they had the same feelings back.

_Does that make us… lovers? Is Judai actually my… boyfriend?_

It still felt a little strange in his mind, and on his tongue as he said it out loud. The words would get lost in the evening. It felt better, somehow, knowing nobody was listening, and that he could sample the feeling for as long as he wanted, until he knew he was happy. 

He knew that he was, even if he had never asked Judai for the name of whatever it made them.

It was enough, he decided, as he saw Amaruya, closer and closer. It was a relief to see the place, just as he had left it that morning, unchanged as ever, hidden away in the dark. Something about it was cosy, the wood on its outside warm-brown in the afternoon sun, and sturdy through its age no matter the time or the season.

His father would be asleep, as would be his mother. He bit his lip. He did not want to raise a racket.

A little away from the door, just to be safe, he fumbled around in his bag in a search for the house keys. His bag gave a rattle. He found them quickly.

It was a relief, he thought, that Judai and his parents had taken back all the trays and most of the equipment. He could not imagine carting all of it home by himself. Asking his brother for help would have been an option, if not for their father most likely being at home. He could not risk his father being awake at this time. Him and Ryou colliding, no matter the circumstance, would be a recipe for disaster.

 _Would Judai have come with me, then? If he could?_ A blush tickled his cheeks as he thought back to the kisses they had ended up sharing.

Whether Mizuchi had seen their hands brush against one another or not, neither of the two knew. They had taken off for the fireworks as soon as the money box was safe in her hands. Their goodbyes had been fast. Neither wanted to wait. Without watches, ‘soon’ became ‘any time’. Missing the display was not an option, and he was thankful for it; just by sheer luck, they had made it on time.

The hillside was less crowded that year.

The year before, he had barely found space on his own. This time was sparser. It was as if fate had been listening, and carved him and Judai out a place of their own, with the skies bright above and the cheers audible enough to feel like part of the festival, but not to drown in the banging and shouting.

_The gods really are kind, and we should thank them for clearing the sky,_ he had heard an old man say in the crowd.

Shou saw no reason to protest. If there were gods in the world, then he had been blessed. He had not minded losing out on some of the details of the fireworks; not when they had been lost in favour of stealing a few more kisses from Judai’s cheek, and hearing him laugh as it tickled, one hand running through the thick of his hair.

He would not get them out of his mind, he realised with a small laugh, not for a while - but he did not want to, not really. He wanted to let it take over, and just for the night, he would have the memory with him. He closed his eyes and felt it again, as bright as the lights of the lanterns had been and as sweet as the scents in the air. The dream would not last, he knew, as he turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

Amaruya was always there, always familiar, both pleasant and haunting with his father’s cold eyes. The place felt a little cooler, he thought, even in the summer heat, as he entered. 

_So tired…_

Kicking off his shoes by the step, he yawned. He could dream as much as he wanted in bed. He was tired and he knew it, legs wanting nothing more than to fall and head wanting to stop thinking. 

Shou struggled past the fog as he walked through the corridor. The thought of sleep was calling him onward, but he could not sleep yet. His stomach couldn’t help but stir at the sight of the darkness around him. The silence was strange, almost deathly in the wake of the festival’s sounds. If his parents were sleeping, then he had to be quiet - but looking around, Shou glimpsed a strange orange glow at one side, on the floor.

Something was off - _terribly off_ , Shou realised. Something felt frightening, and it was no longer just the fatigue. He rubbed his eyes, but the image before him was one and the same. It was still dark, with the faint, ominous glow still there, still emanating from the doorway.

He turned to face it.

There was a faint light in the living room. The flame of a candle danced in the darkness around it. By the table, on his knees, was his father.

“Dad?” He called out, reaching to turn on the light in the corridor. There was no answer. Shou went on and peered in, and his hand never made it up to the switch.

He could not lift his voice much above whispering. Something about it, the dark of the room and the sole light of the candle on the table was giving him goosebumps. There was something ominous about it, something that made his mind think of a dark ritual - but those did not exist, he thought harder and harder, the thought forcing him to deny it more and more the longer he stared at the candle.

Hairs stood on end.

“Dad? What’s this for?”

Hallowed eyes stared back, unblinking. His father’s eagle-eyes had turned to an owl’s, still and watching and wide. There was nothing but silence that met him as the familiar sound of the clock ticked and ticked in the background, but his father did not move.

“Dad?” He asked again, taking a step closer. “Dad? What’s going on?”

His feet guided him forward, head not quite making sense of the sight. His father did not move from where he was on the floor, and it was only when Shou reached forward to touch him that he jerked away from his hand. _He’s alive,_ Shou realised, _and awake._ As strange as it all seemed, nothing foul seemed to be going on, even with the candle on the table and the room being dark, and all of the house being terribly, terribly quiet.

The way his father looked at him as he backed off, skin tinted amber by candlelight, changed his mind in an instant.

“You,” he said, hollow eyes probing Shou’s own. He could not escape. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Shou stepped back, confused. “…Dad?”

“I know. I saw everything out there. It’s you. You’ve come back for me.” The same eyes, dead in the candlelight, fixed themselves like crosshairs on a target.

Shou begged for his feet to move, but they were glued to the ground. Not a muscle would move, save for his heart, beating faster as he swallowed. His mouth turned dry. “What? What do you mean?”

“You knew everything,” his father continued. He stood, leaving the candle to burn, casting a beastly shadow on the wall as it flickered. “You knew from the beginning, and you’ve just been playing dumb all this time.”

His arm reached out, pointing. Shou could see it shaking, as much as his hands did when he was in panic. The eyes that stared back were unblinking, the dreadful finger singling him out not leaving its mark through the shivers.

“This family. All of its pain. There was never youkai blood in this family. There are no demons. Only this madness. Only… only knowing that the past cannot _die._ ”

“Th-the past? Dad? What do you mean? Dad, what’s happening?”

“You’ve been lying to me. You’re not my son.”

“Dad?”

His father shook his head, taking a step forward. His arm would not fall, but Shou could not move either, knees shaking but feet not listening either.

“I heard that monitor bleep. I saw that flat line,” his father went on, voice deep as it quivered. “I was there when they burned you to ashes. I picked your bones out. But you didn’t die. No. You never died. You’re still here. _You’re right here, aren’t you?”_

_No, no, I’m not -_

Shou could barely open his mouth to speak. Only now were thoughts beginning come together in his mind, and he did not want to believe it. It wasn’t true - it couldn’t be true, he said to himself, I’m me and nobody else - but the sick feeling at the pit of his stomach was telling him otherwise, telling him to say nothing instead. He could not leave, and he could not speak without it hurting. He was alone. His father was not backing up. He came closer. No matter how hard he tried to look away, he could feel the knife of his stare piercing right through him.

“…Dad?”

He was either going to be sick or to faint, he didn’t know which, but both seemed likely. What he had heard did not make sense in his head, but did to some distant part of him, the part of him that was anxious and terrified and had cowered while his brother and father fought and shouted downstairs. He wanted to admit that it was true, even if his heart called it a lie, just to get his father away, to get rid of that pointing finger, of the accusation that came with it - of everything, _everything…_

“Don’t call me that. Don’t lie to me. You’re not my son. You never were. I know you’ve been watching me from the beginning.”

“I - I’m not…”

“I know. You’ve always been here. I tried to kill you _again._ I set your memories on fire. Everything. All of your books. All the things that you left. I burned them. I _killed_ them,” he said, coming close enough, leaning in as he did, for Shou to feel spit on his jaw.

A cold, hard hand clasped at his jaw, and he wanted to scream - but he didn’t, he couldn’t, his body wouldn’t move and his lungs wouldn’t listen.

“No…” He breathed out, exasperated.

His father did not let go, hot breaths like poison seeping into his skin. Unpleasant fingers dug into his jawline. “I was there. I saw it. I saw it all burn. But you’ve still stayed here. That mark is still there. It’s still outside, isn’t it? You put that there. You’re the reason it won’t go away. You’re haunting me. You’re haunting all of us… Get out, get out…”

Shou winced as he remembered the black mark. It had long since gone from the path, brushed away and washed out by summer rain, but he had seen his father out there each day for the past few weeks, swearing and scrubbing, and he had said nothing.

“Dad, please. I don’t know what’s going on - I’m not Grandfather, I swear. It’s me, Shou. I’m your son,” he pleaded, hoping the tears in his eyes would come through.

The fingers on his jaw only grew tighter. If they moved down, Shou knew he would choke.

“Lies. Lies. Don’t lie to me. Get out of here,” he shooed with his pointing hand, letting it fall to his side. “You’ve stayed here all this time. Not even a priest could exorcise you from this place. None of them believed me when I told them about you. Lying bastards, the lot of them… They wouldn’t listen to me, but it’s true. I see it. You’ve wormed your way back into this world of the living. You think you’ve won. But I killed you. _I killed you.”_

The hand that was almost at Shou’s throat fell, drooping down to press on his shoulder instead. His father’s head dipped, and in the candlelight, Shou could no longer see the look of death in his eyes. They shut. There was silence.

In that instant, and in the moments that followed, between heavy breaths on both sides, Shou swore he something like sobs shaking his father’s throat. They shook and broke, the man’s throat just as hoarse and dry and hopeless as his own.

“…God damn you, I killed you…”

“Dad.”

“God damn it.”

“Dad, please, listen.”

A shake of the head. His father refused to. “…God _damn it. I…_ I left you in that room. You did yourself in. But _I killed you._ It took you months, but I did it. You died, and I killed you.”

Shou wanted to believe it, too, that this moment was only a dream; that they would sleep and wake up and neither one of them would ever talk about it again, but the sound of sobs in the dark, and the light of the candle was still far too much, too detailed to be the apparition he wanted.

“It’s going to be all right,” he pleaded, almost a whisper. “Grandfather’s not here. You’re right. He’s dead, but he’s gone. He’s not coming back here again.”

There was another shake of the head. The sobbing stopped suddenly.

“Don’t lie to me. I don’t need the pity party. First the goddamn Americans, then all of this bullshit. You wormed your way back here. I can’t stand this. _I can’t.”_

The sudden sound that came from his throat sounded like choking. Instinct told Shou to reach. He could remember the feeling of Mizuchi comforting him still, the panic subsiding as soon as she had told him to breathe, her hands gentle but firm enough to keep him in one place.

“It’s all right. Just calm down, Dad. Breathe,” he said, voice heavy and shaking still with shock. His body was shaking, throat tight with the ghost of his father’s rough fingers pressing a little too tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could choke the pain out of himself, but he was stuck there, trying to reach - 

His hands were swatted away in a slap. _“No.”_

“Dad - “

His father was shaking his head, hands out, but refusing to come any closer. The hands shooed and then pushed, startling Shou but forcing him to take a step back.

“No. I can’t stand this. I won’t stand for it any more,” he said, almost snapping as he looked back. This time, there was silence in the air. Not even the flickering of the candle was enough to bring any motion to the still room. 

The man’s voice quivered, but somehow stayed firm. One hand continued to beckon away. Shou did not obey. His feet would not listen, and neither would he. No matter how desperate - how strange, how built-up yet broken the look in his father’s eyes was, no matter how much fear there was in his eyes within the stone and the venom, he could not go back.

Things were not safe. He could not leave him in this state. Something was wrong - had been wrong all this time, Shou thought, swallowing.

“You’ve been here these past eighteen years,” his father continued. “I’ve never been able to kill you. No matter what I do, you’re going to come back here, over and over. I’m never going to beat you…”

He could not stop himself shivering at the thought that the hate in his father’s voice was all towards him.He was speaking of death, of vengeance for something he could only guess and try to piece together, like he had put together the pieces of his grandfather’s past. None of it made sense, and he could not make sense of it now.

“I thought I could kill you. I thought you were dead, but you didn’t die…”

He knew that what he was hearing was lies. It hurt to listen. Some part of him feared that the resilient edge to the words was more than blind paranoia, or fear - that this was reality, that his father was right - but the lies were too much, too hard to stomach, and he knew, down from the core, that they could not be real.

_I’m not him,_ he thought, gritting his teeth. _Stop it. I can’t be. I’m not me, no matter what happened. No matter - no matter, in spite of everything - I’m me. I’m your son. Shou. I’m me!_

The thoughts could not transmit.

_I’m me!_ He wanted to say it, and he could feel the drum of his heartbeat spurring him on - but he knew it was useless. His father would not be listening.

And yet, some small voice in back of his head was still begging, wanting to try just once more. Shou sighed, and submitted. There was still hope.

Eyes welling shut, he gathered the courage. “Dad…”

“Shut it. Don’t pretend you’re my son,” he snapped back, dismissing. ” _You were never my son._ You came back far too soon for me to fall for your tricks. But I know now. I know I can’t stop you. You’ve won, and I’ve lost this.”

Shou took a sudden step back. “Lost _what?_ What are you saying?”

“It’s one versus the other, isn’t it? I’ve spent all this time trying to get rid of you, even when you still had that old vessel of yours. You were mad. You needed to be locked up, so I forced you to stay. And the moment I left you, you went and killed yourself. And I… and that’s what I wanted. I thought I’d be rid of you. But you’ve ended up staying.”

The sigh he gave felt leaden, like a weight on his chest.

”No matter what… I’ve lost this. I know I have.”

“No, Dad. You haven’t lost anything. You’re going to be all right,” he called back, wishing he could scream loud enough for the terror to leave his father’s voice, or even to get the cold, terrible looks he remembered back into his eyes. What was there was not the man he had grown up with, but a broken, candle-lit shell, one so close it threatened to burn.

“No. I have.” A sigh, heavier than before, echoed from the older man’s throat. He shook his head. “I’ve lost this. Everything. And I’m… I’m not worthy of staying.” 

“Dad?”

Another shake of the head followed. Letting out a small grunt, the man sat up from his slump. The candle burned on. 

“I’m not going to stay here. But maybe, _I will._ I’ll always be here, just like you’ve been. And you won’t forget me. Not ever. I tried to forget you, but you came right back to me. You’ve come back, and you’ve pretended to be my son all this time.”

“No, I… _I don’t understand!”_

“You died, but you came back. You died,” he insisted. Shou wanted to cry out, to force him to see, but there was no use. There was something about his father’s state, so firm but so helpless, confused and determined, that he could not understand. His father was not seeing reason. Fighting him would be an uphill struggle, and there was nothing that he knew that could help.

_Can I give up? I can’t, can I?_

“You died once, eighteen years ago. Maybe it’s time I did likewise.”

He sat up. Strong hands shoved Shou away unexpectedly, and he struggled to keep his balance. The candle wobbled, but it did not fall. _I’ve got to put it out,_ Shou realised. _Before it topples. I don’t want to start a fire…_

It was then that Shou noticed what lay on the floor, in the cage of his father’s fingers. Small and pale, painted a dangerous orange in the light of the candle, like tiny stones, or one of his mother’s necklaces, scattered and with the string lost, was a pile of what seemed to be tablets.

_Tablets? Are those - what are those for? Whose are they?_

_Tablets -_

One and one met in his mind in a scream.

“Dad - no!”

He did not have anything more than the memory of those terrible pages, of the lines that had branded his grandfather’s papers. He could remember the characters, all in strict black pen, burned into the death certificate. The cause of it, the means of it - all of it, he could remember, and the voice in his conscious was screaming it at him, screaming and screaming, telling him to reach out and grab those tablets and throw them out of reach, out of sight…

The hand resting over them grabbed. It was too late, Shou thought with a gasp.

“It’s a good time for it. Look at the day. It’s a wonderful night. Any time now. Any time, it’ll be the right time,” his father trailed on, eyes drifting up to the ceiling. “Any time. Just going to wait for the moment…”

His hands clenched. Shou felt his heart freeze, skipping beats. “No. Dad, please, no.”

“No. You can’t stop me doing this. I’ve already prepared. I was waiting.”

“For _what?”_

“I’m saying goodbye to you. Look,” his father said, turning from Shou to the pills, then back to Shou again. His eyes still fixed on the figure before him, he lifted his hand. How many tablets were there, he could not see exactly, but the edge of one, and another, that peered out from between the grip of his fingers were not good signs.

“I did what you wanted me to do. _Look.”_

Shou shook his head, trying to reach forward. One free, outreached hand stopped him in his tracks. He tried to move around it, but it met him again. The impact was unexpected, and he had to step back again.

His heart felt like it had risen up to his throat. He was going to choke - out of fear, out of desperation, or panic - “Dad - no, I didn’t - I didn’t say anything - “

A shake of the head was all that met him in return, the calm steadiness of his father’s hand winning the battle.

“You didn’t say anything. You only _showed_ me,” he continued. His voice was strange, not quite steady, but strangely calm, in a way that only sent shivers up Shou’s spine and urged him to try and fight back.

It came to nothing.

“You’ve showed me that I’ve lost this battle. There’s no point in me fighting this any more. You’ve won. I’m showing myself the way out.”

The hand moved up, from the height of his father’s chest up to his chin.

“Don’t you dare! Mom, can you hear me?”

“She can’t.”

“Mom!”

“Shut it. And don’t call her your mother. Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to me again.”

The snap of his tone felt like the stab of a knife to the chest, and the throat, both at once.

The hand with the pills didn’t stop.

“Amaruya’s yours again. You’re happy about this, aren’t you? You’re happy now, aren’t you?”

It was too close.

“Dad, you’re not doing this!”

One last shake of the head.

“Goodbye, _Father._ I hope you’re happy to see this.”

There were no words after that - only screams.

Shou could not make out the sounds coming out of his throat, nor could he make sense of anything that was there, or that wasn’t. The only thing he heard, between him and the other man in the darkness, was the dreadful sound of something being swallowed, before everything turned into chaos and shouts, hands trying to grab at air and failing, an empty grip trying to tear through the darkness.

It was too much; too fast. What was before him turned into chaos.

He could not see straight past the mess of his vision, dulled by the darkness, and the hell of everything he was hearing and feeling: the screaming, spluttering, choking - caused by what, exactly, Shou could not tell, either the far-too-quick work of the tablets or the pain of swallowing too much, too fast, or something else, enough to make even _himself_ feel sick to the core. It was too much, all of it - in every sense of the word, too much of everything - and he had to think, but could not think, did not want to think. His hands would not stay still, and his throat would not scream, not at first. 

His hands would not listen to him. He could not stop. They would seize up and get back to grabbing and pulling and pushing again, and then, someone would scream. If all of it was himself, he could not tell, but a part of him knew that he was making at least some of the noise. There were no words, only blind shouting: first, sounds with no meaning, then something that was not loud enough, then louder, until it was as loud as he could bear, and until he could not speak again without his entire body aching, and then not at all, until the candle went out by itself and left them both in the darkness.

Somewhere, at some point, came the awful hell of terrible silence, and then, nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. It's (almost) the end.
> 
> Please leave a review on the way out!


	23. Ch. 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to start off with something almost compulsory for this chapter: the music I discovered at the time of writing this, back in December. I remember sitting on my bed at my parents' house at 12:30am with it in my ears, looking up at the ceiling and crying, thinking of this chapter.
> 
> If it doesn't distract you too much: put this on an infinite loop and let it play in the background, and feel what I felt when I needed something perfect for death and snow and the image of one white December.
> 
> [Requiem of Silence - Kenichiro Suehiro (Re:Zero OST)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfJWT1TcqwI)

**_ chapter twenty one. _ **

The months were slow to pass.

With time came the cold, and with the cold came snow, painting Yanaka in coats. The streets became white, just as they had been that in same year’s spring, albeit much colder, much emptier. Even the fur of the cats had grown thick, their mewling muted out and breaths turned to white puffs.

Yanaka Cemetery was strangely quiet on Christmas Day of that year.

The nearby shops were still closed up that morning. The shrines were silent. The roads were empty, the snow having fallen and coated them with white powder. There were not even cyclists down the central path that divided the vast plain of graves. Rare passers-by kept their eyes fixed on the ground, fearing the ice.

It was in the midst of the silence of death that Shou ventured outside that morning, wrapped in the thickest coat he owned. His hair trailed down, untamed and uncut, brushing against the wool of his coat and over his shoulders.

Judai was by his side.

In Shou’s arms, like a limp child, were heavy, snow-coloured lilies.

With only nods and a quick, “Shall we go?” outside Amaruya, their walk was quiet. The crunching of snow underfoot was the sole rhythm of the morning. There were no birds. Those that dared to chirp were left with cold throats. Yanaka was barely alive after the snowfall. Even the sky was white, emptiness clouding across the horizon.

Shou himself was halfway to falling to pieces, none of his pain hidden away behind tired, broken eyes. Even sleep had not been able to ease him.

They crossed a handful roads, and grasped at fences by patches of ice. Judai stayed with him, offering a hand of support when he almost slipped on a frozen patch of ground. He shook his head at the help. The support had been a kind gesture, but he had not needed it.

When they came to the cemetery, the silence still lingered. Looks were all that they needed that morning. It was too painful, Shou knew, to try to raise his voice above more than a whisper. His throat had been a little sore earlier, even with a scarf protecting his neck, and he had to save what sound he had left. He would need it later that day. His mother and brother, and he himself, had been invited for Christmas with Judai’s family. For days, Judai had boasted of it, with eyes bright with memories of America and warm evening fire in his heart.

In the hours before that, there was no need for voices. All was silent with death.

The cemetery air was far from its usual serenity. Covered in snow, white blanketing all of the graves, silence had settled all through it. Death itself seemed to have walked through the neighbourhood that same morning.

Still saying nothing, the two made their way through. The feel of lily stems in bare hands, like holding icicles, sent chills through Shou’s fingers.

He sighed, trying to recall the section he had tracked down. On his free days, for weeks, he had been searching. It had been Judai who had found it, in the end; an extra pair of eyes and kind hands had given him the help he had needed. The sight of it, for the first time, only last week, had made his heart leap.

Soon, what he had been looking for was within his view. He stopped, coming closer to the grave he had spent days pursuing.

It was not one that he had seen before much. The cemetery had grown vast over time, and he had rarely been for little more than a stroll through the place, in awe of the cherry blossoms that carpeted its central path more than he had at the countless characters marking unending graves.

The Amamiya family grave was no different from those around it. When it had last been visited, Shou did not know, and did not want to think of. He did not know of any blood relatives.

He could not imagine the loneliness of those years, even in death.

His eyes began to water. Rubbing them with one sleeve, he focused on the names, character by character.

“Shall we?” Judai’s voice called out, tender amongst the harsher cold around them.

They were the first words Shou had heard that day, in the silence. He nodded.

There was the sound of rummaging in pockets, then the click of a lighter. A musty smell began to trail through the still air. He shuffled aside, letting Judai come forward and place a few sticks of incense in the holder by the stone grave. Shou picked out two of the lilies he had been cradling. After Judai had stepped back, he placed them down, next to the incense.

He could not see the smoke; it was the same colour as breath, and the same colour as the snow in the graveyard. The incense was strong, even through the cold air. For a few moments, it was as if something was alive with them - as if there were more than two human smells and more than two sets of breaths, that came with the soft feeling of comfort wrapping itself around Shou’s back and pressing into his shoulder as he wept, midway through prayer.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell the people whose names were engraved that he remembered them. Even when only one name, the name of a man his grandfather had loved, had a face in his mind, it made his heart wrench. The grave had not been touched for a long time. He could only imagine the pain a soul could feel after what had to be eighteen years of solitude.

_Please,_  he whispered, _hear me out. I’m here. We’re both here, and Amaruya still is. You are remembered. I promise, you will not be forgotten again._

_Tarou-san, please, give me your blessing, and all of the love you gave. I promise you, I will never forget you, or the ones you spent your years loving._

He stayed there, stone-cold like the grave marker before him, eyes shut and eyelashes wet, for a few minutes. His legs began to ache from crouching. Carefully, he stood up and turned back to Judai, who opened his eyes and lifted his head from his own standing prayer.

“Come on,” he said, quietly. Judai gave a quaint nod.

It was not like him, not quite, he thought as they passed through one trail and turned onto another. Judai was always his best when he was smiling and loud, carefree and careless. As much as it meant to him that he had come here, it was not quite right for him to be solemn and still, as much as it was for the cemetery to be totally silent.

They were alone, and the snow was all that they had.

He gave a shiver as his head turned, side-to-side. He recalled the numbers, locations, the name of the path that had been written down in a margin somewhere. The plot itself was a number. Only to him would the names tied to it truly be names.

They had wandered the graveyard for long enough before they had found them.

Theirs was the promise, and weeks had gone by, waiting for the weekends when they could keep it. There had been no more papers. Past the certificates that marked the passing of the man Shou had pursued, there had been no more notes, no more numbers. There had only been time. Sundays turned into harsh days for weeks on end, those days spend with necks craning left and right, down until both of them were aching and at the end of their tethers.

Shou could still remember the afternoon he had found the first of the names, the memory as crisp in his mind as the leaves that had started to litter the path. He could remember the beat of his heart, and the cool of the stone on the palms of his hands. He remembered reading the name, once and twice and three times over, and all of the names surrounding it, and how in the shock of it, he almost fell into Judai’s arms, voice torn, but neither a scream nor a whisper.

It did not take long to find it again.

If his grandfather had asked to be buried alongside his lover, then his wish had not been granted. His resting place was with his kin. Names, only one familiar to Shou, and the others a mystery, marked out what had to be a hundred or more years of those who carried his family name.

His eyes took in the sight, each and every mark on the gravestone. It felt real this time, far more real, far more bitter on the tongue to see each one for himself. He was here. For the first time in eighteen years of living, he had come to the place. He would finally pay his respects to the people he had missed for so many years - the people who were a part of him, whose blood ran through his veins.

His heart clenched at the thought that the names no longer had meaning. It felt wrong, he thought, that he did not know who was who, and what they had done.

One day, he would find out.

He kneeled down, picking out more sticks of incense. Judai leaned in and lit them up, and he placed them down in the holder, watching the smoke stream. Hands darkened pink by the cold brushed away fallen snow, and marked out the names he had spent weeks trying to find.

One name seemed to call, more than the rest, and he reached out. His fingers ran down the strokes of each character.

_Marufuji Satoru,_ he read.

Tears began to well up in his eyes. Feeling the ache, he squeezed them shut for an instant. He could not restrain them. The heat scorched at his skin and clawed at his insides.

There were other names too, ones he did not know. Some names were women’s, others belonging to men, and one name that could have been either. He had never met any of them. His heart squeezed, knowing that he never would. He could only imagine their hands and eyes, their voices and paces, but he had their names, and that would be their connection. He would keep their names safe, deep inside his heart, and write them out and say them enough, so that nobody would dare forget them again.

_We are Marufuji,_ he thought.  _Once, we were assistants, and now we have Amaruya. We have so much. We have everything. We have love, and love will unite us, no matter who tries to hold us all back._

_Not even…_

He shook his head, memories calling back to him. The sudden taste in his mouth was too bitter.

_Not even..._

He let the tears fall.

He thought of his grandfather - the young man he had been in the photographs years ago, and the old man whose body his father had cremated, whose bones he had picked out - whose ghost had haunted him until the end. He thought of death and life and what had been left behind. He thought of love. He thought of the countless pages he knew he had to have written, so many of them lost to the fire that had stained his father’s sanity, and the few that had made its way back to him.

Pulling back, fingertips frozen up from touching stone for too long, he brought his hands together. Hot breaths, white in the cold, tried to warm them. He closed his eyes, not caring if he was crying and Judai could see it, and prayed. The tears were hot brands on his cheek.

He would keep safe those pages, he vowed, as the drops fell onto his coat and sank into the snow. That was his promise, and he would keep it for as long as he lived.

_And, please,_  he thought, just as he had pleaded to Amamiya Tarou,  _please approve of the decisions I made. Approve of my feelings. Stay with us until the end._

It would do no good to try and chase out the ghosts of the past. He had to embrace them. He would welcome them into his home and let them breathe the same air, smell the same herbs as the living did in Amaruya’s storefront. They were part of this world, too - part of Yanaka, part of himself, in his blood and beyond. It was his history, too.

The history of feelings - of love itself - was infinite. He would let it flow through his veins, and make it part of himself. He would never forget it. He never could.

His father had tried to push it aside. It had torn him to pieces.

It hurt, worse than sickness or ache, to see the shadows in his father’s eyes and beneath them, to see him staring at the ceiling for nights, unable to sleep. It was the reason he could barely speak to him - not as much out of fear for himself, but for him - for how fragile he seemed, almost overexposed.

Months had passed since he had come home, out of hospital, to a more familiar bed. He would get up, and open the shop as he always did, and hand it over to Shou as soon as he came home from school, but without as much as a word. Rarely would he ever look into Shou’s eyes.

He struggled to call Shou by name.

_The house is alive,_ he had said one night, tone fearfully hushed. There were ghosts in the corners. The walls and floor were teeming with voices. There was still a black mark outside on the path, and he would dream of it burning and burning, unstoppable, until the fires swallowed him whole.

It was too much to bear on some days and some nights. Neither Shou, nor his father could make sense of it. Some days, he would remember the shouting and thumping of feet on the ground, trying to make sense of what had occurred in the night; on that night. It would come back to him.

Sometimes, Shou would see his mother holding his father by the shoulders, staring down at him, and just talking. It did not matter if neither one of them smiled, or if her talk of work and life and the birds outside was interrupted by her asking if he had forgotten his medication, because it was better than nothing - or so he had heard his father say once, head down and hands wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Judai’s voice cracked halfway through. Shou could feel the dryness in his throat, just like his own, tearing away. It was probably painful to try. “I’m so sorry you had to put up with all of these things.”

It had been painful. The past three months had been maddening - from signing papers to reorganising Amaruya’s order of business, to learning words he did not understand, bottles of pills and papers full of side effects falling out of his hands in sheer terror. He had wanted to hole himself up in his room and never come out again. Nothing, not his mother’s voice, or even his brother’s, had been enough to make him forget the voice that called, time and time again in his mind, callinghim by another man’s name, and announcing that history would then repeat itself, knowing it could have been the man’s last day alive.

Of all the days, it had been just after midnight, on September 25th.

Amaruya would not be the same. Shou had been fighting for months just to rid his head of the sounds of knocking on a barricaded door and the memory of shattered glass on the ground.

“It’s my fault,” he confessed, halfway between painful sobs. “I did it. I did it to him. If not for me, he wouldn’t have done it.”

He had no choice but to keep living, and to keep seeing the same man again, his eyes not as sharp as before but turned duller, hands shakier and face aged by five years at least, five steps closer to death. A sneaking voice still told him each night that  _he_  was to blame.

He would still wake up on some mornings, sweating and shivering, thinking it was still dark and there was nothing but candlelight illuminating the rooms. He had to remind himself on those days, that when he saw shadows, they belonged to those walking past, or laughing, or running - that they were not the shadow of a man with pills in his hands that he was about to swallow.

Warm breaths that he knew he did not deserve heated the skin on his neck. “You didn’t,” Judai whispered, pressing himself closer. “You couldn’t have done anything. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But - but I…”

“It wasn’t you. It was his own decision.”

“But I wasn’t enough.”

“Nobody could have been,” Judai insisted. “You weren’t to blame for what he decided.”

“He’s ill.”

“Exactly. You didn’t ask for it. And besides, he lived. You were the one that saved him.”

Seeing his father, drooping and empty on medication that drained him on the worst days made Shou’s entire body tremble. He hated the sight of those eyes, more dead than alive, more grey than ever. The way his father’s fingers would shake sometimes, and how he barely seemed to speak sometimes was a stab in the chest. It pained him, down to the core.

Once, he had walked past his room, and heard the man crying. He had not known what to think. He was broken, and he had been, for what had to be a long time. It was why he had been silent so long, and why his father had barely been able to speak to any doctor, any aide, even his own family members, when the questions came to be asked.

_Why? Was there a voice? What were you seeing? How long were they there for? When was the first time? The last? The times in-between?_

He could still hear the questions, as he had heard them through doors propped ajar and opened by accident. They swarmed in his head, like bees. How his father was feeling, he could not begin to imagine.

“I know. I know that he lived,” he sobbed, leaning in and craving the warmth that came from the huddle. “But why? Why did he have to? What did it mean?” It came out as a scream this time, half-muffled into Judai’s shoulder. “What if he’s right? What if all of it’s real? What if I’m… what if I’m not me? What if I’m  _him?”_

For weeks on end, he had heard his father’s voice loop in his head - screaming,  _you’re him, you’re him, you’re not my son_ \- and he had wanted to scream back, but the voice would not hear. It would not listen to him. It was the fear in his conscious, telling him that his father had been right all along, that he was the same man in another shape, back from the dead, and that Marufuji Shou had been a lie.

He had tried not to believe it. The nightmares had come. Sometimes, he would wake up in a sweat,as if a candle, the very candle his father had lit, had been traced down his skin, the same frightened eyes staring into his soul. His father, the exorcist, would look at him in dreams and say the same thing, over and over, until he woke up, not quite steady and teetering into a state of panic.

One night, in the silence, he had thought of the dead man. It had taken him hours to go back to sleep again - to be sure of there being no eyes, no candles, and no ghostly trails in his sight.

Judai’s hands, holding on to his sides, jerked him back to reality. He gave a gasp, Judai’s eyes turning stern just for a moment.

“No. Don’t listen to that. You’re not someone else. You’re you. You, as you are. Like Kagemaru said. You’re  _you_ ,” he insisted.

It was far from the Judai he knew - so calm, so cheerful - but it was the same look he had seen in his eyes when staring at homework, or at a difficult recipe, or at something simply frustrating. It was determination.

“Even with… all of these things?” He asked, voice wobbling.

The look on Judai’s face seemed to soften at those faint hints of doubt.

“Hey. Of course. No matter what happens, you’re you. You’re not anyone else. You decide your own story. Your dad did that. He made his decision himself. But you’re you. You saved him. It’ll be all right.”

_Maybe._

_It’ll be all right,_ Shou thought, echoing to himself.  _It’ll be all right if I try and keep going._

If there was one thing he wanted to be true, it was that one thought. It was the thought he had heard the hospital nurses say out loud to him, and what Judai’s mother had said to him in the aftermath of September 25th, and what his brother had told him when he came home to tend to their mother and the tea shop, while their father recovered.

 _It’ll be all right,_ Mizuchi had said the last time he came to the House.  _You’re alive. He’s alive too; all of you are alive. You are loved, by us, and by them, and by him,_  she had said with a smile, glancing at Judai. _He loves you too. We all do. You’re always welcome here, and you aren’t alone._

Tome-san had said it too, her arms loving and warm. Her voice healed, he knew, and so did all of the folk of the House. He would think of her sometimes, and of Samejima, and of the kinder looks that he had seen in old man Kagemaru’s tired eyes when he had thought back to the better days of his past.

The first time Mizuchi’s brother had come back to the House after the festival, a few weeks into October, he had brought with him his cards, and a notepad.

It had taken him a while to ask, but Saiou Takuma had been kind. The notepad, he had seen, was filling up with stories and memories. Some he knew were Kagemaru’s. A few he had glimpsed had been Samejima’s. Each Saturday, he would see Mizuchi, side-to-side with her brother on one of the benches outside, a different huddle of elders around them. One would be writing, the other leaning back with a cup of hot tea, and they would call him around, telling him to come closer and listen.

_We’ll have a book one day,_ Saiou had said once, drawing a card in the rest between stories.  _The Star, upright. A good sign._

The House was safe. It was enough.  _The Star,_ Saiou had said, meant  _hope._ It had been the same card that he had drawn on the day of the festival.

He had a future, Shou had to remind himself on the worst of the mornings. It had taken him weeks to flush out the the same horrible feelings. They were ebbing away now. The days would soon be quiet, he hoped, deep down at the core.

The same feeling told him that one day, he would be fine.

“Yes,” he forced out. His throat was still jerky, sounds uneven with the weight of tears. “It’s all right. It’ll be…”

He could not bring himself to say much more. His arms acted by instinct, pulling Judai closer and closer, until he could not bring him any closer without either of them being uncomfortable. His head buried itself in the thick fabric of Judai’s coat, hands clasping to reach around him. Even through the coat, he could feel Judai’s heart beat, hectic and worried, and yet, the sound brought him comfort, the sturdiness beneath keeping him up, while Judai’s own hands slowly reached back to hold.

He knew he would cry again, thinking back to the souls in the graveyard, and all that had shaken them both since September. Months had passed. Time had brought with it winter, but nothing would rid him of his memories. Some had been terrible. Others were kind - warm, gentle and loving, like droplets of heat that fell and left marks in the snow.

It hurt to cry. Some part of him was still riddled with guilt, that he was probably burdening Judai like this, or that he would always be weak. It was those thoughts that he had to fight to push away, and to let himself cry, and be held as he was. He could hear Judai whispering. The voice, and the hand that had begun to run through his hair, tickling as much as it was warming, both told him to stay, to stay as long as he needed, and he did not resist. He let himself fall; he let himself breathe, until the tears had subsided, and he could think straight again, after so many dreadful moments of silence, kept bottled up.

It was no good. He was not weak. He had his feelings. Hiding them away was what would render him weak. He had to be strong enough this time - strong enough to talk about how he felt, and what he wanted.

His father had not. He would take the step up.

He had his life up ahead, and he was going to live it.

When Judai spoke again, it was quieter than what he was used to. An uncertain question tumbled out from his tongue, and it was one that Shou could not answer straight out.

“Are you going to forgive him?”

It took moments of silence, of thought. He felt Judai fret for a second, worried that he had upset him. Carefully, he looked up.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can. But I won’t do what he did. I won’t try to erase him. I’ll keep him in mind, just like I’ll remember everyone else. They’ll always be part of who I am.”

“Everyone?”

_“Everyone who means something.”_

Judai’s fingers brushed away a lock of stray hair from his face. If he saw the tears in his eyes, then it did not matter. He did not object to it when he felt him lean in, and he did not back away from the lick of flame against salt on his cheek that was Judai’s kiss.

“Even me?” He was close enough for Shou to reach up and run his own hands down his arms, and leaned into the touch, savouring what little warmth they had outside, in the white of the winter.

“Even you. You mean so much.  _So much of it…”_

Shou leaned in a little more, and replied with a kiss of his own, soft and chaste against the cool of flushed skin. His hands slid down to meet Judai’s own, and they met in a hold.

It would not be enough to be close in the snow. Holding back the wind and the feeling of white morning cold in the cemetery would not be enough. Nothing would ever make Shou forget; not for years or for the whole of his life, and he swore, once and for the rest of his life, that he never would. What he had seen had left him shaking and weak, but forgetting it would be denying the past, and history, he had learned, was something few could deny.

History was what his father had been fighting for years. Blood, time and love had not been acceptable. The past had grown into a beast.  It had escaped from its cage. It had sharpened its claws, and unleashed itself on the one who had tried to lock it away.

Still, Shou thought, Judai was right. His father was still alive - shaken, still broken, but still alive, at the same time. He had tried to go down the same route as the man that had ended his life long before him, but failed. It had been for the better.

History had tried to repeat itself - but it had not done it, not quite. Somewhere, somehow, the cycle was broken, but they could not forget it. Trying to kill the past had been his father’s mistake. He would not follow likewise. He would not forget.

Nothing would be enough to make him forget. No amount of force to forget, and no amount of happiness, either would leave him perfectly happy for the rest of his life. It was not possible. The only choice he had was to remember, and to remember so much that it would never be possible to forget. It was the duty promised and handed down to him, the legacies of his family and of Amaruya, the place that had brought so many together. He would never try to forget, but he would stay alive instead - and ensure, he promised, to let the world know of what had happened once in the past, and to protect it.

It would not be enough. Nothing would rewind and change history. What was in his hands - in Judai’s hands, too - was the future, bright and winding and unpredictable.

He would have hope, and with that, he would find happiness. The future was still up ahead, racing onward and onward, unending.

_The future’s still mine to make. Mine, and yours. The future is_ ours,  _and I love you._

_I love you. I’m happy._

_I love you._

_Just let me stay with you like this,_ he thought, in the midst of the cold winter’s day, surrounded by life and death and snow all at once, comforted only by thick layers of clothes and the warmth of Judai’s nose against his in between small, soothing kisses, and the feather-touch of light snowflakes against the flush of his skin.

**_end of act three_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if there was snow or not in Tokyo on Christmas Day in 2005. Regardless, this remains a favourite chapter of mine, and technically, this is the last true chapter of Melonpan Chronicle.
> 
> That's right, it's (almost) the end. This story finishes next week, with not a chapter but something I call the 'umbrella epilogue', a little something that concludes all or most of the stories of the Chronicleverse - and yes, I hope there will be others. I had planned to write some, but other plans mean they might not be done for a while. Still, I hope to be able to bring them to you sometime soon.
> 
> I'd also just like to say that... this may be my last YGO fic for a while. I've decided to focus on a new fic for another fandom for the time being, and I've been feeling like I need a breather for a while anyway. That's not to say that there won't be any more YGO fic from me - it's just that I'd like some time for other endeavours. New horizons await, and I'll be trying my best.
> 
> As always, my ask box, etc is open on Tumblr: a while back, I changed URLs and I am now [seruspica](http://seruspica.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Talk to me there, or here, or anywhere. I'm open to anything.
> 
> Once again, I am so thankful for every comment I get. "You mean so much. So much of it..."
> 
> <3


	24. Umbrella Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Chronicleverse's 'umbrella epilogue' - an ending to not only Melonpan Chronicle, but also other stories I may or may not write in the future. I hope you enjoy it.

**_fifteen years later: umbrella epilogue_ **

_ “I know. We can’t stop time. We can’t stop death, either, but… no matter what, I’ll make sure we’re remembered. I’ll tell our story. I’ll write it down, and I’ll share it. I won’t let it be forgotten again. Even when one, or both of us aren’t here any more… at least one person, somebody out there, will remember that we existed.” _

_ \- Marufuji Shou to Yuki Judai, on the night they hear of Alice “Adelheid Voss” Fujimoto’s passing _

*******

It was in the midst of a soft, warming spring day, when Amaruya’s bell let out a bright chime.

A small girl peered in through the doorway, eyes wide, bright as a sunbeam. Ribbons bounced in small braids on her shoulders. The hem of her skirt fluttered around in the breeze. It was the colour of sunlight and freshly-rolled pastry, the same colour as the elastics that kept down her braids.

The walk to the shop had been more of a carefree skip, as if she had been soaring with every step. Her feet did not want to stay still. Since she had woken up, she had wanted to run: but now, she was tired. She wanted to stop, and she had found the right place. She would rest up, and wait, and maybe talk for a little bit.

There was time, her father had said. _All the time in the world. It’s a Saturday._

Curious eyes looked around the shop. All seemed to be quiet. She could see no-one behind the counter, but as she stepped in, her small footsteps echoed. The sound of a voice, calling out, rang out from the back of the place.

“Coming, one moment!”

The girl’s lips broke into a smile. The voice was familiar. It was funny, she thought, how its owner never seemed to recognise it was her; though she had the fastest feet and the lightest steps in her class, and as her dad had said to her that morning, _the brightest smile of any girl that I know._

She couldn’t help but grin at the memory. _They’d probably be proud, knowing how fast I can run. How I made it up here, without Dad even seeing which direction I went._

_Dad always knows where I go. He’ll always find me._

There was nothing for her to worry about.

The sound of footsteps was getting louder. Still with proud thoughts in her mind, the girl turned from the walls of the shop to the back again, from where she was sure the shopkeeper would come.

She was no stranger to Amaruya. She knew where her home was, and how to get to her school, and all the big shops her parents would take her, and sometimes the zoo; and she knew Amaruya, like another kind of home that was somehow different, without her parents, but not at all frightening. It was small, but maybe that little bit magical - full of infinite drawers and strange smells, and if she asked politely, a little tea and the sight of dancing steam in the air, just for her.

“Sorry about that…”

Her eyes sparkled when she saw him finally come out from the back of the shop. He was as gentle-looking as always, with his glasses perched on his nose and his hair in its usual mess of a braid on one shoulder, and he was empty-handed enough for her to spring onto him if she wanted a hug.

“Rina?”

“Uncle!” Rina exclaimed. “I missed you, Uncle Shou…”

It didn’t matter to her that she had last seen him at the start of the week, when her parents had paid a quick evening visit. Her ‘uncle’ was different; somewhat special, and how she had lived before she had been able to come to his shop by herself, she could not quite imagine.

“Rina? What are you doing here?” Shou asked. Putting his cup down with a faint clatter, he came out from behind the counter, closer to the small girl.

“I’m waiting!” She piped up, clearly happy.

Shou couldn’t help but worry at the sight of her. Had she come far? Her clothing was neat, her ribbons fine - but she was alone. His stomach stirred with worry.

“For whom?” He asked, a little uneasy.

“For my dad. He’s being so slow. But I’m not like him, I’m faster. You know I’m fast, Uncle.”

“So you are…” Shou smiled, ruffling her hair with one hand. Rina laughed, her smile wide and carefree. Her laugh was soft, sweet like the purr of one of Yanaka’s beloved felines. “Did you tell him you were going ahead? He might be worried about you.”

“Nope!” Her smile persisted, even as the look Shou gave her shifted into a more troubled one. “He always comes to this place when we go down this street. I know he’s going to be here any moment. He is.”

“Well, you’d better be right about that…” 

His voice lowered a hint, Rina not noticing. She did not give him much more attention, not how he wanted, and weaved straight past him as soon as he turned, even if it was just for an instant. He did not have time to catch her before she was out of his way, and in the blink of an eye, she was up by the counter, leaning on it in an attempt to reach the top, just enough for her to put her chin down.

Her hands - thankfully clean - patted down on the top of the counter.

“See?” Rina giggled. “I’m fast. I told you I am. I’m the fastest girl in my class.”

“So you are, so you are…”

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, and at the sound of her small, chiming voice, calling him Uncle. There was something about Rina he found so hard to describe, innocent and loud and brash and a little careless sometimes, but she was young, he reminded himself.

_Seven years old and proud already,_ he thought. Time had flown. He could remember her parents’ faces, still, years on from the day the contracts were signed, and when he had gotten to hold her in his arms, as small and helpless and pink-faced as he had once been, more than thirty years past. Not long ago, it seemed, he had seen her in her kindergartener’s hat, and she was in elementary already. 

Time had gone fast, and the world was changing and moving, a little bit at a time.

Rina was still leaning on the counter by the time he zoned back into reality, out of his daydreams. Small as she was, she stood on her tiptoes, leaning intensely. Her eyes were transfixed on what was above, staring up at the decorations and frames on the back wall.

Cuttings from newspapers and magazines adorned it, both Japanese and foreign, in no less than four different languages. Most were in Japanese. A few were in English. Rina could barely read any. Shou could only stifle a laugh as she leaned over the counter more and more, young eyes squinting to try and make out the lines.

_Tracing ‘History Living’: Yanaka, Beyond the Bestseller. Hidden Gems of Tokyo. Traveller’s Picks. The City’s Best Bakeries._ Rina was still far too young to read any of them, but her eyes were did not care. She was drawn to the rainbow of highlighted colours. Amaruya’s name - and that she had learned - was in each one of them, neon lines bringing out paragraphs in bold type and looping rings around photographs. 

There were images she probably recognised, of nearby streets, and some of the wandering cats that she would stop and pet. Two certificates accented one side of the arrangement. One was emblazoned with gold and the other in a vivid sea-blue, marked with other words she was definitely not yet able to read, andtwo names that she probably could.

“What are those for? I saw those last time…”

“Those? Oh, they’re like a prize.”

She didn’t look at them for long, even if the gold one stood out. Shou had grown used to her staring whenever she came to Amaruya, alone or with her parents in tow, and he did not mind - far from it, he thought, leaning over to her as she stared at images far more washed out, far older, far from the bright colours of the articles and certificates.

Leaning over and slumping wasn’t enough, and before Shou could come closer, she had already gone. Her steps were brisk, small shoes thump-thumping on the old floor.

Wide eyes stared up at the photographs hung on the wall. “Uncle? Can I see that one?”

Her hands tried to reach, but resorted to pointing. Shou gave a content sigh as he walked up to her side. Rina stared on. His hand reached for one of the frames on the wall, giving it a nudge and waiting for her to nod back. When she did, he reached over carefully and took it off, before settling down on his knees, next to her, passing her the photograph as he made himself comfortable by her side.

She had not seen it close up before. Small fingers trailed down, making little smears on the frame, but Shou did not mind, peering over her shoulder to look closer himself, ignoring any mess she was making. Rina had always been a fairly clean girl, and he trusted her, enough to let her look at what she had in her hands in all of its detail.

“Wow,” she said, pointing at one of the people, a boy with a comfortable smile on his face. “Who’s that?”

“That?” Shou smiled. “That’s the person whom this shop used to belong to, a long time ago. Long before me, or my dad. That’s my grandpa.”

“Aww,” Rina cooed, “He looks like he’s falling asleep!”

Shou let out a small laugh at the thought. Looking at it again, some part of him thought the same thing. “Maybe he is.”

Rina stared at the photograph a few moments longer, curious fingers drawing lines on the frame. Shou saw her squint, probably trying to look deeper into the image, into the faces blurred somewhat with time. The grey was not well-printed, not for what Rina had grown up seeing, he knew. Time had gone by. Photographs were in colour now. Gone was the black-and-white of his grandfather’s days, and brighter still was the world he did not know, right ahead.

“Was he a nice person?” She finally asked, looking back with innocent eyes.

“I don’t know,” Shou confessed. “I never met him. But I still have some of his things, and I think he must have been nice.”

“That’s good.” Rina said. “Nice people are good. You’re nice, Uncle.”

He couldn’t help but laugh a little under his breath. Rina was sweet - maybe a little wide-eyed and naive, but she was good at heart. Being complimented by her felt somehow enlightening, knowing that she trusted him, as much as her nickname for him already made him think she was happy.

Amaruya was his home, but he would make it Rina’s, too, if she wanted to spend time at the tea shop. Having her around was like a breath of fresh air.

“Well, thank you,” he said back. “And you’re nice, too.”

“Nice, you say? I don’t suppose you’ve seen any _nice girls_ around here, have you?”

The sudden sound of a voice coming from the doorway made him jump. Shou turned around, Rina following in his steps. He had recognised the voice from the start, but he had not been expecting it - silly, he realised, laughing on the inside, knowing who was always around when Rina was - and he turned back to greet its owner, all traces of his old shopkeeper persona discarded in lieu of smiles saved for an old friend.

“There you are. Nice or not, don’t run off just like that,” Manjoume sighed, taking the few steps he needed to close the gap between him and his daughter.

“Dad! But it’s only over to Uncle’s,” Rina groaned.

“Rina, do I have to say it again?”

“I know! But I didn’t talk to strangers or anything!”

“That’s good, at least.”

“See? Uncle, tell Dad I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Puppy-dog eyes stared up at Shou, and he found himself fighting to resist his almost-niece’s pleading. Rina had never had bad intentions, he knew. It was unlike her, to rebel without reason. She had only wanted to come and see him, he thought. A part of him almost felt bad for her, even if she had disobeyed.

“Rina…” Shou shook his head. The calm smile from before still stayed on his face, but his tone shifted to something a little more concerned.

The girl gave a small pout back, more of a playful one than anything genuine.

“…Be a little more careful next time, all right? Tell your dad where you’re going. And don’t go off without him. You promise?”

It was only a little bit firm - not the strict telling-off of a parent or teacher. He was not quite her family, but he cared nonetheless.

“All right,” she sighed. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

Reluctantly, she passed the frame in her hands back to Shou. He picked it up, quickly wiping off any smears with the corner of his apron, and gently put it down on top of the counter. He would put it back once she had left.

Rina looked back at her father, and reached out her hand first. Her shoulders were drooping, and maybe the rest of her was following suit, even her hair looking that little bit duller, bows flat against her back, loose hairs resting just on top of one shoulder.

“Oh, come on now…”

When Manjoume spoke to her, it was much softer - not angry, but much more gentle. It was something Shou had not grown quite used to, even after seven years of seeing him play the role of a parent, and something he found a little silly deep down, remembering their first encounter, fifteen years ago in the past. His hand came down to play with the top of her hair, and she looked up, a sort of anxiety trapped in her eyes.

“It’s all right,” he said, hand still resting on top of her hair, only light enough as to play with some of the stray locks. “Just be a little more careful next time. Rina, all right?”

The girl gave a sigh. “All right.”

“I’m not mad at you. But you’ve got to be careful.”

“I promise.”

“That’s good,” he said. “Now, come on. We’ve got lunch to head back to. Your favourite, like we promised.”

The sad look on her face seemed to dissolve. Light came back to the girl’s eyes. A little more confidently this time, she took hold of her father’s hand. Shou gave a small laugh, seeing her tug on his sleeve, her smile coming back and the colour of embarrassment washing itself out of her cheeks. He let out a sigh of relief.

Watching her turn around and head back towards the door, he called her name one more time.

“Wait, Rina!”

Both the girl and her father turned around.

“If you want to come back in an hour, we’ll have the bread done. You can have some. On the house if you don’t leave it too late, all right?”

Rina’s smile widened a score.

“Dad, please can we? It’s melonpan…” she demanded, tugging on his sleeve again. “And I want to look at some more of those pictures Uncle Shou has,”

Shou laughed out loudly this time, seeing her father smile back and ruffle her hair again. Years ago, he would have been silenced - and he could remember the stern looks on Manjoume’s face still, how his hands would slam down on surfaces and how he would scowl, and some part of him only wanted to laugh even more at seeing him softened up, loving in a way he most certainly could not have imagined him being in his teenage years.

“You can, you can,” Manjoume said. “But in a bit. After lunch. Let’s get back, all right?”

“All right!” Rina let out a cheer. “I’ll see you later, Uncle! Save some melonpan for me!”

She waved with her free hand, and Shou found himself waving back. He was weak to her and he knew it, but he knew few who could resist Rina. She was a ray of light, and one that he loved.

“Bye!” He stepped out of the shop after the two of them, and waved to her, and did not stop until she and her father had gone on down the street, almost out of sight. By then, she had stopped looking back and waving herself, turning back to look into her parent’s eyes, the words of her telling him all about what she had seen getting lost in the faint breeze of that spring day.

Shou sighed. It was a fine day, he thought, for walking - probably what Rina had been doing with her father that morning when she had run off. How a girl could be so free-spirited and almost eternally happy, he could barely understand.

Her parents loved her for how she was. He loved her, too, as the niece she had made herself into by calling him _Uncle_. His heart warmed at the thought.

“She’s sweet, isn’t she?”

Startled, Shou turned around. Judai had crept up behind him, leaning on the doorframe, and as he turned around, he could not help but notice how he was eyeing the same, familiar sign next to the shop. He had found his usual target, and Shou laughed at the memories that surfaced at the mere thought of it.

“You’re not kicking that thing again,” he said, nudging him playfully.

“Not planning to. Might teach Rina to do it every time she comes over.”

“Hey!”

“Just kidding, just kidding…” Judai trailed off, sighing contently. He retreated back into the shop, and Shou followed, letting him perch on the counter as he remembered the photo frame Rina had left, picked it up and went back to the wall it had come from to hang it.

“Was she looking at those?”

“Yeah,” Shou said. “She wanted to know.”

“You told her?”

“Started to. Didn’t get to finish. She had to go home,” he trailed off, sighing as dreams took over his thoughts. “She’s so adorable…”

Judai noticed. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of _those two…_ Kids are hard work.”

Shou turned back, some what startled, but far from upset.

“I know,” he said. “But hey, what would really I be jealous of? I mean, I’ve got this place. I’ve got you…” His eyes scanned around the room, empty save for themselves. All there was was the faint sound of birdsong and breeze streaming in from outside, and he took it all in with a breath. “Well, maybe I _am,_ just a little.”

Judai blinked, confused. “Wait. You want a kid running around this place?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure. I mean, all that aside, it’s only right that this place gets passed on as it’s meant to be. That’s years away, but I can’t force it on anybody.”

“You mean, like - “

Shou turned around, leaning in a little. His fingers drew lines down Judai’s shoulder, tickling slightly through the thick cloth of his shirt.

“I don’t want Amaruya to be a curse to whoever inherits it. I’d rather give it to someone who loves it. Like… like I _love_ this place. I love being here. I’ve been drawn here for a long time, even if it’s had its rough times. I love it. So, if I give it to someone, I want them, and Amaruya itself to be happy.”

The look in his eyes was as distant as the spring horizon, most likely drifting off into a dream. Judai had not always been able to pick them all out, but often, he could, and at those times, they did not need words. Rina’s laughter, bright as the chimes of a bell, was still clear in both minds, tugging at the corners of mouths and lightening the feeling in both of their hearts.

It took a while for Judai to make sense of it. “You’re not saying…?”

Shou’s hand ran through his hair. “Well, she’s young. But she’s got the nose for it.”

“Think she’s got some of that youkai blood? A bit of _bakeneko_ in her?”

Judai leaned in a little, teasing. His breath, soft on the shell of Shou’s ear, made him shiver slightly, but it was far from unpleasant, and maybe a little mystifying with the suggestion.

“Oh, come on. You know it’s all a myth.”

Rina adored Yanaka’s cats. She had loved them for as long as she had known them, and they had known her. Shou had heard her begging for a cat of her own once, tugging on her father’s shirt as she pointed towards a padding, bushy-tailed kitten. It had made Shou laugh, seeing something so innocent, and yet so loving, and it was times like those that made him wonder if he would ever have a child of his own.

It was no wonder she called him _Uncle_ \- and, deep down, he admitted, even that was enough.

He had been one of the first to see her adoption papers. He could still remember that day, the air thick with anticipation, Manjoume’s hand trembling as he tried to hide his sobbing, knowing that what he had wanted would finally be in his grasp. He had seen her back then, not long after, small and cocooned in her blankets, and he had seen her grow taller and stronger and brighter with each time that her family took her out for a walk around the neighbourhood.

“Still… she’s seven.”

“I know,” Shou said, “And I’ve still got a long time to decide. She’s still got a long time, too. If she wants to, when she’s older, then I’d be happy with that. If she doesn’t want to, then I’ll keep looking for someone.”

He would not trust just anyone with his family’s business - not even his own child, if he was to have one, and that child decided they did not want it. Amaruya was what it was because of passion and care, not blood or family lineage, not at its heart. It was why it had come to his grandfather, and why he had chosen to keep the place running after his father made the choice to retire.

He continued, blushing a little as Judai ran a finger down his cheek.

“And… if she does want to learn all about this place, then I’ll teach her. I’ll teach her what Dad taught me, but I’ll do it my way. I’ll do it the way Grandfather would want me to teach it. I’ll teach her everything.”

Judai let out a small laugh, nuzzling his cheek and making him giggle. “Some teacher you’d be. I barely remember anything still…”

“You stick to coffee. Like I said, I’ll teach it to someone else. I’ll teach it to our kid, if you’d prefer.” Feeling Judai pull away for a second, he clarified. “If we have one, that is.”

“Eh…”

Judai still looked a little uncertain, and some part of him wanted to laugh at the look on his face. He had never been one for the serious topics, and Shou himself had tried to avoid it, not because of that, but because of the uncertainties he himself had, buried deep down.

“We don’t have to have one,” Shou said, a little more seriously.

Judai sighed, calming. “You’re right. We’ve got time to think about that one.” He returned to where he had been, just as close, his nose brushing against Shou’s and eliciting a smile in return. “…But hey, Shou?”

“Yeah?”

“What if you’re right with this one? What if it really will go to Rina? She’s not really your family.”

Shou stopped. Judai was right. He could not be certain. Judai had been right. Rina was young. Even if she had the inclination, there would be no forcing her. She would decide when she was older, if the time came and she still wished to take on the duty. Neither family, nor any kind of bloodline, would not force her.

Her fathers would most likely approve of it, he thought with a small smile on his lips. Rina herself would be the one to decide - and it would not be her blood, but her spirit. Rina was diligent and kind. He knew she would learn quickly. Some part of Shou could envisage her now - older, with charm enough to make half of Yanaka swoon, and of course knowing of all of the tricks that had passed down from Shou’s family, from wherever they had originated.

His eyes shone with colour, thinking of it. “She’s family enough.”

Outside, the birds sang. Petals were dusting down from the trees, as they did every April, painting Yanaka’s paths white.  Shou drew away and looked out, towards the front door. The breeze coming in was gentle, soft as the feeling of kisses rushing through the thick of his hair. Out on the streets, he could still hear Rina’s soft laughter.

Soon, Amaruya’s bell would ring out again.

Beyond Yanaka - beyond Tokyo itself, far beyond reach were thousands and thousands of people; each of them with their own stories to tell and their own legacies. His own was one of a million kinds. He was a Marufuji, and his story would be remembered. On pages, in ink and blood and sweat, amongst hot breaths and passionate whispers into Judai’s shoulder, in a handful of notes detailing their own melonpan recipe, and all he could remember. All of it would remain, in the vivid eyes of blue-coated elderly ladies and young people and children, in all of Yanaka itself, in Misawa Rina’s sweet laughter, caught in a moment of spring.

Judai’s hand caressed his own. He smiled, clutching back, and let himself lean in for a kiss. The small, silver ring on his finger twinkled under the light as he reached out.

In the air, amongst Amaruya’s teas, were the faint smells of memories, forged together in love - and of warm melonpan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over. It's done with - or so I say, until I get time to work on the spinoffs, telling the story of a certain couple of characters...
> 
> A huge thank you to all of my readers, reviewers and fans. I love you so much I just don't have the words for it. You've kept me going all the way through. Without your support I wouldn't have had the guts to carry on writing this story, through thick and thin, through time and season and all that. I've got another fandom project being worked on right now, but I hope to get back to this universe and add some more things to it. I'll keep you updated, all right?
> 
> Special thanks go to Faith, my wonderful fellow writer and "anikist", to Val for reading this and supporting, and to all of my fantastic reviewers. If you're reading this, this one's for you.
> 
> All's fair in love and sugar!
> 
> Melonpan Chronicle  
> 2016-2017
> 
> Celestos/Seruspica


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